


Blakk Luck

by CSKazaam, KittenFair



Series: Star Wars: The Old Republic (Empire) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Based, Friendship, GFY, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Spoilers, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSKazaam/pseuds/CSKazaam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenFair/pseuds/KittenFair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cipher Agent Omega Blakk has had more than his share of bad luck. But when his brand new ship crashes on Balmorra, leaving him critically injured in enemy territory, it doesn't seem like it's about to let up anytime soon. And, after pushing everyone he knows away, it seems like his chances of making it out alive, alone, are not good at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the events of the MMORPG Star Wars: The Old Republic. It does feature some canon characters, but the focus is on several original characters: Agent Omega Blakk, Bounty Hunter Seran-vin, and Sith Inquisitor Saare-ha.
> 
> There are minor spoilers for Chapter 1 of the game. The story universe adopts the major class events as canon, but diverges on specific mission events. This particular story does not follow any particular mission - it is an original story set within the SWTOR universe.
> 
> Finally, this is the first story that KittenFair and CSKazaam have completed together ... so come celebrate with us! :D

One would assume that having just been promoted to Cipher class and being granted one’s very own starship - and a sleek, beautiful work of art at that - one could take the time to enjoy those recent fortunes and, just _maybe_ , relax a little.

However, the fortune that Agent Omega Blakk had been granted was not _good_ by any definition of the word, Imperial or otherwise, and that’s the way it had been ever since he’d excelled at his final exam and been deployed on his first mission.  The worst kind of luck had been following him around since planetfall on Hutta, and it just so happened to be in the form of a red-skinned Iridonian Zabrak bounty hunter, and, more irritatingly, a slave-turned-Sith who seemed to have it out for him.  

And just when he’d _finally_ managed to ditch her on Dromund Kaas, he’d been called to Korriban, the sacred homeworld of the Sith - and not just anyone, particularly non-Sith, were invited there.  One didn’t simply ignore summons of that magnitude, _especially_ when it came from the daughter of your dead, self-appointed Sith keeper.  What she had to say and what he’d experienced there had not been pleasant, at all.

“Gods …”  He supposed he should be grateful she hadn’t fried him in some way with the Force.  But being forced to duel her entire complement of bodyguards at a whim had been equally nerve-wracking.  What’s more, he’d been forced to _kill_ them just to preserve his own skin.  It had been one of the most senseless things he’d encountered in his life.  “What a waste …”

Rubbing his eyes, he leaned back in the pilot’s chair, lifting his gaze from the darkened transparisteel viewport to the bulkhead above.  He’d feared Darth Jadus, felt an almost overwhelming sense of foreboding at being called to work for him, and he’d found it was all he could do to remain upright after leaving the man’s presence.  The Sith Lord had commanded the deepest obedience, his very aura leaving a tangible, physical mark on Blakk.  But his daughter …

She was … well, not his opposite.  Where Jadus had been raw, tightly controlled power, the awesome vastness of the void contained in imposing form and made into something that could touch your soul just by glancing at you …  Darth Zhorrid was _chaos._  Blakk had yet to grasp her; he felt that she would laugh with him one moment, and strike him down with a casual flick of the wrist the next.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure _which_ of them he preferred.  But his nerves had been left raw by their meeting, and a part of him hoped Jadus would turn out to be alive just so he didn’t have to deal with the pure uncertainty of his daughter.  It was difficult to believe that a man of his power could be dead, in any case.

“Out of the sands, and into the sarlacc,” he mused, softly.

Truthfully, his nerves might have fared better had the meeting been located elsewhere.  There was something about that planet, something about the Academy, something about the sands and the winds and the rocks … _something_.  That … _whispered_ to him.  

It was a whisper that slunk into his mind, curling into places where it didn’t belong.  It did something to him, because when he looked out across the stony, barren landscape and heard - _imagined_ \- the howl of the ancient “don’t-say-it’s-name-or-it-will-come” _tuk’ata,_ the beast that haunted the nightmares of the Empire’s children, used to frighten them into behaving ... when he heard this, saw this, his heart quickened, and his mouth went dry, and the chill of the air reached deeper into his soul than it should have.  When he stepped into the Academy and found its air so oppressive he could barely force himself to slink along the walls, he found himself shaking at a nameless fear that came from nowhere and meant _nothing_ , yet was something that he could not overcome.  

These whispers, these images, these places … they meant _something_.  Yet there was nothing there for them to mean.  He’d never been to Korriban before.

Unable to sleep since the meeting, he’d cloistered himself away in his ship, confining his movements to his new quarters and the bridge while enroute to Balmorra.  Not even the rich, exotic wood panelling and soothing blue of the ambients in the lounge could draw him out.  His nerves were frayed.

But he’d arrived, now, _finally_ , and the distraction of a new mission would allow him to get his head on straight.  There would be no need to go back to Korriban.  Ever.

Still, as he glided in off the radar, and the green-brown expanse of the planet rose up and began to roll beneath the ship, it was all he could do to concentrate on the simple task in front of him.  Korriban preyed on his mind.  It had latched on like a trap-jaw, and would not let him go so easily.

Shaking his head to free it, Blakk scowled, eyeing the map and the planetary readouts.   _Balmorra_ … a readily habitable planet, though cooler than the standard four seasons.  Rather limited terrain of plains, mountains, and canyons … and quite rocky, at that.  He’d need to set down outside the city of Sobrik and hike in to maintain a low profile; infiltrating the Republic-supported resistance wouldn’t be easy if they knew he was coming.

Thankfully, he didn’t have a certain Sith or bounty hunter to get in his way this time around.  

The smirk didn’t quite make it to his face, however, as he recalled the last, harsh words he’d had with the lady Sith - _Saare, she has a name, doesn’t she?_  - but, no matter.  The _Sith_ would get over it … and he didn’t care whether she did or not, anyway.  It was over, thank the gods; he just had to keep telling himself that.

Raising his gaze to the viewport, Blakk expected to see the starkness of empty terrain … so when he saw, not mountains, but a domed city encrusted with anti-air turbocannons, he thought for sure he must have momentarily gone mad.

“That can’t be right …”  Double-checking the map showed him well to the north of Sobrik … which meant that either _it_ was wrong, or he finally _had_ snapped.

The sudden howl of turbolaser fire rapidly put an end to his musings.

“Sithspawn!”  The shot impacted his shields dead-center, and he yanked the control yoke to the side, spinning the ship around …

Spinning … _spinning …_

The ship wasn’t spinning.

The ship wasn’t spinning, and the turbocannons were continuing to fire, lighting up the viewport with acidic green, and he _wasn’t_ evading, and _why wasn’t the damn stick doing anything??_  

Heart leaping into his throat, Blakk yanked on the controls once more, before frantically tapping out commands to the autopilot - had he locked it somehow?  When there was no response, he dove beneath the console, ripping off the access panel.  Fearing a short of some kind, he yanked out the wiring, trying to locate something, _anything,_ that could restore maneuverability.  He was no spacecraft mechanic, but he was reasonably versed in electrical systems …

He had no time, however.  Just when the idea occurred to him to radio a mayday as … say, a cargo freighter, and plead for ceasefire … his shields broke.

The blasts upon his hull were like the thunder-rolls on Dromund Kaas.  The bulkheads superheated, screaming shrilly.  It was only by virtue of the starboard wing failing first that he was saved the fate of being blown away with the cockpit.

The starship skewed rapidly to port, skimming by the city and saving the cockpit from the merciless pounding of the guns, only for an engine to give out, and something else to explode, filling the cabin with acrid fumes.  Having tumbled across the floor, Blakk scrambled for the chair, his only thought to strap in before the ship collided with something.

He never got the chance.

* * *

**End Prologue**


	2. Chapter 2

The Sunken Sarlacc Cantina wasn’t the greatest cantina Seran-vin had ever ventured into, and for a planet at war, they should have had some better drinks available just to keep peace amongst the Imps - but that was just the opinion of a tired Zabrak who’d had a little too much dealings with the powers that be lately. And speaking of _powers that be,_ a certain power be _late_ according to the chrono - and that wasn’t like Omega Blakk at all. Downing the last mouthful of the watery excuse for alcohol, the mercenary got up and headed for the city.

Sobrik honestly wasn’t too bad. Then again, on a scale with the likes of Nar Shaddaa and Corellia on it, Balmorra was bound to disappoint. He just had to remind himself that he couldn’t be choosy right now. That, and if things got _too_ bad, he did have a little something in storage….  
  
“Hey, boss.” Mako, his young technical expert and companion of many years, took a look at his expression and snickered, arching a brow. “Not up to snuff?”

“The only thing wasted was credits.” He reported dryly. “You come lookin’ for me?”

“Yeah, uhm… there’s something on the ship.”

The Zabrak arched a brow, making a gesture toward the starport and following her quietly as she began making a list of various things that needed done later. Part of him filed it away, but he recognized it for what it was - _filler._ There was something on the little hacker’s mind, and they needed to be somewhere secure to talk about it.  
  
Sure enough, just as soon as the hatch was closing, Mako was giving him a serious look. “Did you hear from Blakk yet?”

“Kid, if I’d been with Blakk, we’d have come back here for a decent drink.” He sighed, following at a slower pace as she hurried to the workstation she’d talked him into putting in, bringing up a series of maps and turning on a few comm channels. There was a lot more chatter than he was honestly wanting to hear, but he sighed and put up with it, sure she had a reason.

“So, there was a big vehicle that went down over the Sundari Flatlands, hit by the big anti air turrets the Republic have put out there for the rebels.” Mako explained quickly. “And I mean _big,_ big enough to be a freighter, but it _isn’t._ ”

“That’s a pretty good sized vessel,” he noted thoughtfully. “Details?”

“Grainy photos, some vague guesses that it came from out of the system, and the fact that no one is claiming it on any level.” She scowled. “If it was ever in the database, it’s not now. I don’t know who made it, where it came from, what it is - but I have a suspicion who _might_ have been piloting it.”

Gold eyes widened slightly, then narrowed in a hurry. “You think so?”

“Time frame is perfect, situation makes some sense…” she pointed out. “It’s not like it’d hurt to go look, would it? If I’m wrong, you might be able to bring back some interesting tech for me to look at, and… well, Blakk might be slightly more receptive to just me.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point.” He shook his head, frowning. He hoped this once she was wrong. “Alright, I’ll get some extra supplies and go take a look. Keep channels open and try and get some more information for me, alright?”

“You got it, boss!”

* * *

Awareness returned with the choking stench of liquid tar turned gaseous and a complex mixture of toxic fumes that burned his throat.  Blakk coughed, the sound raw and wet, in a futile reflex to clear his lungs and find breathable air.  The action drove knives into his chest, and the gasp and fit that resulted neither helped the pain nor his need for oxygen.

A forceful act of will managed to bring his breathing under control, and, teeth clenched and chest seizing with the desire to continue coughing, Blakk opened bleary eyes. 

It took several moments for him to recognize his surroundings.  Lying face-down upon the bulkhead floor, he stared uncomprehendingly at the glowing mass of twisted metal and stone before him.  _… Stone?_   How was there _stone_ inside his ship?  The incongruity of it twisted his brain until he realized that the stone wasn’t _inside_ … it was _outside_ , and there was a ragged, gaping hole where the entire rear section of his ship used to be.  A thick layer of smoke obscured the ceiling and yellow flames flickered at the edges of his vision.

The hazy details of the crash rushed back to him and he groaned, only to shudder with the effort of holding back an answering cough.  He’d broken his brand new _Phantom_ … been shot down … because … because …

Dimly recognizing that his mind was growing foggy, Blakk realized that he needed to get out, and fast, lest he fall unconscious and suffocate or burn up.  Jerking his eyes open again - when had he closed them? - he twisted, intending to roll over, sit up, and evacuate.  But the sudden, overwhelming spear of pain in his right shoulder and leg tore a ragged scream from his throat, and he fell back to the deck, spasming and clutching at the arm.  The agony jolted his heart into action, clearing some of the haze from his mind, and he shuddered, gasping, as he beheld his situation through newly alert, but watering, eyes.

His leg was pinned beneath a twisted, misshapen lump of metal, curling down from the ceiling - a structural support?  How it got there, Blakk had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.  Very tentatively, he gave his leg a tug to free it … only to grate bone against bone in a way that was never meant to happen.  His nerves lit up with white fire and blinded his vision, nearly sending him back into the depths of unconsciousness.

“Damn … damn … _damn …_ ”  Blakk gasped, shuddering.  This was not good.  This was _very_ not good, on top of the list of all his not good things.  If his leg wasn’t enough, his shoulder hurt too - felt _funny_ \- and he had no idea what was wrong with it, but it left his arm and hand feeling weak and tingly.  He didn’t know what he could do about any of it, however, except to just _get out_.  The ship was a warped shell of slag, and the heat on his neck and back told him that the fire was hoping to consume him, too.

Forcing himself to move, he reached for the metal pinning him in place, giving it an experimental shove with his good hand.  It gave a little, reluctantly, but it was enough to give him hope that he could free himself.  A harder push moved the beam further; he shifted to keep at it.  But his hand slipped, rocking the metal back into his leg and shooting another spear of agony up the limb.  He bit off a pained shout, having to brace himself against the floor until it passed.

With measured breaths - as measured as he could manage - Blakk returned to the beam; gritting his teeth, he placed his hand on it, put his good shoulder into it, and began to push once more.  The metal _groaned_ , and for a long, breathless moment, Blakk thought it might not move enough after all, and what then?  He’d be stuck here, had no idea where “here” was, had no way to call for help or put out the fire or get out of the ship, it felt like a _deathtrap_ now, hot and choking and claustrophobic …

Panic began to lace its way through him.  His muscles began to shake, and just when he thought he might be forced to give up, he heaved at the beam with a breathless cry.  _There!_   Without regard to the injury, he yanked the leg free, metal edges tearing at clothing and skin, and tumbled free to the side.  The beam slammed back into the deck with a _bang_ , and Blakk lay there, shuddering.

When his vision cleared again, he glanced up, slowly pushing into a sitting position while trying to keep his injured leg still.  It didn’t quite work, but at least he avoided the worst.  Suppressing another cough and raising his good arm to cover his nose and mouth for all the good it would do, he scanned the jumble of metal and rock at what used to be the back of the ship.  It should provide a way out.

Whatever had happened to the X-70B _Phantom_ had not been kind, however, for it was almost as if the rear of the ship had been pinched, pounded, and finally twisted and ripped free - it was an utter mess, a jungle of metal struts and plating that offered no clear exit and would be all but impossible to climb through with his leg, broken as it was.  And toward the bow … no, the transparisteel was smashed, jutting vicious teeth and ringed in flames eating their way through the console.  It would be foolish to attempt that route.

Twisting back to the rear, Blakk scanned it once more, desperately searching with increasingly blurry eyes for some small gap he could access and squeeze through.  _Come on, come on …_

It took him a moment, but he realized that the twisting snake of charcoal smoke was pouring out a narrow exit in the side of the ship; a sliver of sand and more rock presented itself.  Hopefully there’d be enough room for him to get through, as well.

Adrenaline giving him the strength to stagger awkwardly to his feet, Blakk lurched for the gap, half-dragging his injured leg behind him.

It was a mark of the pain that he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut for a single moment, tears leaking out the corners, as he dragged his way there.  It was a mark of his determination that he kept going despite it.  However, because of this, he didn’t account for the warped plane of the deck, or the loose cabling spilling across it.  If he hadn’t been handicapped, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  As it was, the situation conspired to trip him and send him sprawling painfully into the wall.

Automatically, Blakk threw his arms up to catch himself, forgetting about his injured shoulder.  It was that arm that caught the brunt of the impact, palm and forearm slamming into a console.  In that moment, he would have been happy if the jarring agony had been his only problem.  But the metal _glowed,_ superheated by internal flames, and it seared right into his unprotected skin as his shoulder kept him from pushing away fast enough.

Blakk couldn’t remember screaming, or throwing himself to the floor, but his next conscious actions were of frantically pulling himself along the floor through the torn hole in the bulkhead.  He nearly cried as coarse sand met his fingers; burned arm clutched tightly to his side, he scrambled up, stumbled along a nearby rock, and all but threw himself the next five yards to gain distance from the ship, before staggering back into the ground.

Clutching weakly at the dirt, Blakk shuddered, pain wracking his body.  His eyes stung, tears slowly streaking down his smoke-and-blood-stained cheeks.  For the way his chest and lungs hurt, he tried his utmost to keep from full out crying … but when he at last looked up, a part of him expected to see Saare there, ready to yell at him and berate him and _heal_ him … and she wasn’t. 

She was gone, and the choked sob that knowledge prompted was the most painful of them all.

* * *

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Balmorra.  
  
Well, he _didn’t_ exactly _like_ Balmorra, but that wasn’t the real issue. The problem Seran-vin had with Balmorra was the problem he had with every planet he’d been to where there was a global war. Mako, who had heard him explain at length, called it the ‘kids with big guns’ problem, and it was simple: there were a bunch of kids - by which he meant those with lesser experience more than giving a damn about chronological age - with big guns … and in this case you could see some of the ‘guns’ these ‘kids’ had a few good hours before you actually got there.  
  
Kids did not need guns like _that._ No one short of a disciplined military force with experienced leaders needed that kind of firepower. And while he wouldn’t put down the Republic - they had some very impressive people - they were making some pretty big firepower available to people who shouldn’t have that kind of power. He was pretty sure that a strike team and some crack negotiators could at least halve how many people were getting killed in this mess. Sure, people had to die - if you were going to kill for a cause, you damn well better be ready to die for it - but needless death wasn’t his thing.

Like shooting down the ship. While on the one hand, if it _was_ Blakk they might’ve bought themselves a little longer to live by shooting him down; on the other, it sure didn’t sound like anyone had tried to find out. What if it had been an unexpected ally? Or a neutral party they could have swayed?

Kids with guns was just bad business. All fire power and no tactics made for long, bloody, gritty wars with enormous body counts, and generations after who thought that was the way things were done. Bad, bad business.

“ _Boss?_ ”

The Zabrak paused, kneeling against some rock and tapping at his ear piece. “Whatcha got, Mako?”

“ _There’s a team organizing to go look at the wreckage - no telling if individuals have gotten there or not, but you need to keep heading straight there.”_ The slicer reported. “ _Blakk hasn’t made contact with me. Do you want me to make some calls?”_

Calls… hm. “Yeah, you have a word with the Rattataki - if nothing else, she should know where he’s _supposed_ to be. If it looks like things are still the way they look now, get in touch with the little miss, alright?”

“ _Sure thing, and I’ll send you a status report._ ”

“You do that. Vin out.” He tapped the ear piece again and resumed his trek, breaking into a jog as he finally got high enough to see the smoke and adjust his course. _Don’t you get yourself killed, kid, I’m not done with you yet._

He paused at the top of the rocks he’d been climbing, staring down a long trail of smoking debris, ripped ground and chunks of what was probably part of a plateau. In the distance was the largest part of what _had_ once been a mighty impressive ship. Scrap, now, though, and coughing up billows of thick, dark smoke. He grimaced and started heading down. The flames he could see licking around some areas wouldn’t deter _everyone,_ and anyone still in there needed out _now._  
  
He shifted his equipment, the less familiar blade feeling a little awkward in his hand. But it would cleave right through a lot of lesser materials, if he got room to swing, and would survive if he needed to hack at something. The bigger issue would be the heat and smoke … but this wasn’t an optional mission. Tapping his earpiece, he tuned back in to hear Mako muttering. “Mako.”

She cut her muttered rantings off, and he could picture her hand lifting towards her temple reflexively. “ _Yeah, boss?”_

“I want you to get talking with Kaliyo.” He sighed. “And keep our line open - I’m heading in to really look at this wreck, so if something goes wrong, I want you on the line.”

“ _Sure thing. Contacting her now, go on ahead._ ”

* * *

Mako adjusted the volumes on her comm and the ship’s radio, and dialed out for the number her guardian had gotten off the Rattataki who - hopefully - would know where Blakk was supposed to be.

After several long moments, a smooth, almost lazy voice - female - sounded from the other end of the connection.  _“Yeah.  You’ve got me.  I hope you can make this worth my while … it’s not exactly high noon where I’m parked._ ”

“Lucky you, I’m less concerned with where _you’re_ parked and more about a _friend_ of ours.” Mako’s lips curled into a wry smirk, imagining the exaggerated eyeroll she’d get if Blakk had been there to hear. Maybe he was. Maybe he was with _her_ , for some reason … but she doubted it. “Know his last destination?”

There was a pause on the Rattataki’s end.  “ _Well, that depends on who’s asking.  Maybe I don’t know any of your friends.  Maybe I don’t care if I did._ ”

The slicer paused a moment to make a face at the comm unit, realizing she wasn’t recognized. “And here I thought you were just playing with me. I work with Seran-vin. Big Iridonian Zabrak?”

“ _I might have heard of him.  How do I know you haven’t killed him and stolen his ship?_ ”  It was evident by this point that Kaliyo Djannis had traced the comm signal to Seran’s vessel, and knew exactly where Mako was calling from.

Mako narrowed her eyes, contemplating crossing connections to put her through to Seran - people seemed to take _him_ a lot more seriously, especially when he was mad, and she could hear him swearing in a low, constant string under his breath on the other channel. “If I killed Seran and stole his ship, you’d have a lot bigger issues to worry about than me tracking down your buddy, Kal. Where _is_ he?”

“ _Well he’s not with me,_ ” Kaliyo drawled, coolly.  “ _Look, hon, you’re going to have to give me more to go on than that, if you want to know anything else._ ”

“Did he come to Balmorra?” She heard a fresh burst of inventive and vile curses and Seran picking up speed and scowled. “He hasn’t shown up, and there was an unregistered ship shot down in the areas the resistance is clinging to by Republic-provided anti-air. This could be important!”

There was another pause, much longer this time.  “ _Yeah … he went to Balmorra,_ ” Kaliyo finally confessed.  “ _Do you have visuals of the ship?_ ”

“What’s left of it, yeah. Give me a minute.” She shifted her attention a bit, prodding her connection to the holonet with a frown as she dragged the files she’d saved, selecting them and patching the lot through to Kaliyo. “Seran’s at the crash site now, those are the pics as it was going down, the best I could get from the limited satellite access. It’s just a hunch, but…”

When the voice came back, it was a good deal sharper than before.  “ _Get me Seran._ ”

“One minute,” that was close enough to confirmation to subdue the teen, and she tapped into her guardian’s line. “Boss? She wants a word.”

“ _Got a whole hell of a lotta words right now, Mako.”_ He growled softly, coughing. “ _Patch her through._ ”

Mako nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, and adjusted the two links on the ship computer. “You’re through, Kaliyo.”

“ _Show me visuals, Seran,_ ” Kaliyo ordered.

“ _Cheery, ain’tcha?_ ” He growled, coughing again, the sound of heavy footfalls barely heard over the roar of fire. “ _Give me a minute, still not used t’ this…._ ”

Given that the calls were linked through the ship’s computer, Mako saw the files as soon as they hit the databank, watching the blur as he adjusted the settings to show what he was looking at. He still wasn’t particularly good with the improvements she’d made to his equipment, but even bad with this was better than what he’d had.

She’d seen worse wrecks, but none she’d have walked into. As far as she could tell, he was… maybe in what had been the bridge?

There was more silence from Kaliyo’s end, then a quiet, but vehement, “ _Sithspit,_ ” before the line went dead.

“I’d say that’s his ship.” Mako whispered, hands clutching the console. She choked on a curse of her own when she spotted something. “ _Blood!_ Sith, Seran there’s a _trail!_ ”

“ _Trails mean movement, which means he was conscious.”_ He reminded her gruffly, moving to follow immediately. If nothing else, the man was a fantastic tracker. It was what he _did._

She had to believe they’d gone looking soon enough. “Do you… should I call her?”

There was a little huff, maybe a dark laugh, maybe a cough from all the smoke. “ _Yeah, you’d better. I might need her._ ”

* * *

  
_to be continued…_   



	3. Chapter 3

Blakk’s head was buzzing.  He had the _worst_ headache, and it was bad enough that he thought at times he was seeing double … though it was hard to tell whether the two rocks were supposed to be one ... or were just two identical rocks.

His breath was raspy and ragged, and it was all he could do just to keep on his feet and keep most of his weight off his bad leg, as he continued his halting, lurching pace.  He didn’t know how bad the injury was, and was afraid to actually look.  It wouldn’t have done any good, at any rate, or made any difference - there was nothing to splint it with, and he had to keep moving, get as much distance from the ship as he could.  Even if no one from the city cared enough to track down the ship they just blew out of the sky, the patrols already in the area would certainly be checking it out, for loot if nothing else.  He hoped the fumes from the fires melted their lungs or corroded their circuits.

Blakk was working on evading one of those patrols even now.  He’d spotted some troops behind a ridge and was currently making his way around the other side, trying to place as many rocks and gullies between them as possible.  He wished he had some other intel, some idea of how many patrols were out there, scout patterns, numbers, armament … but everything he had had been on the ship, probably destroyed, now.

What he wouldn’t give for a speeder.  Or even a blaster, for that matter.  His rifle had gone down with the ship, too, probably blown up or smashed to bits somewhere along the terrain.  It sure would have been a welcome weight, whether or not he could actually wield it effectively with his off hand.  All he had on him were a pair of knives - something he enjoyed using, but if it came down to _that_ at this point, he was probably going to be in a real fix.

For a moment, he wondered just how _unlucky_ one man could get.  Had he been _cursed_ , somehow?  It wasn’t too much of a stretch.  He’d prowled through the tombs on Dromund Kaas, after all, and Saare-ha probably hated him enough to curse him.  She’d probably think it was funny.  Then again, his bad luck had started before he’d met her, so maybe it was Seran’s fault.  He was a Zabrak - his skin was red, he had horns on his head, and he was creepy like a Sith.  It was entirely believable that he wasn’t a man at all, but a _demon_ from the ninth Corellian hell sent to torture him.

With those thoughts tumbling randomly through his head, Blakk rounded yet another craggy rock formation.  When he glanced up, it was to the shout of surprise … and not his own.  There, not five yards away, was one of the patrol troops, and behind him were two more men and three droids.

 _What!?_  Had he missed them, somehow?  Was this the same group he’d been avoiding, or yet another one?  Whipping out a knife at reflex, he raised it in defense, only for the patrol to train their blasters on him and begin yelling, even as they quickly moved to flank him and cut off his escape.

“No … don’t … don’t shoot …” he rasped, doing his utmost to suppress his Imperial accent, though not very successfully.  “I’m on your side … not an enemy …”

Blakk couldn’t tell whether they believed him.  They were still yelling, and it was beyond him to make heads or tails of the overlapping commands.  His head was spinning.  He shook it to clear it, only for one of the men to abruptly appear when he looked up.  Roughly grabbing Blakk’s arm and twisting it behind his back, the man kicked out his good leg, sending him to his knees and fire driving up his spine from his injury.  His vision went white and he swayed, the only thing keeping him upright the man’s grip on his arm.

When he felt the cool, firm pressure of a blaster muzzle at his temple, he realized it didn’t really matter whether they believed him or not.  They’d kill him anyway.

* * *

Seran could list all sorts of close calls he’d had throughout his life, situations where he just barely scraped by, dancing with death in ways that defied reason. At this very moment, seeing Blakk with a gun to his temple, blood coating his face, darkening ripped pants that suggested a broken leg with an angle that wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t remember one where he’d felt such a jolt of pure _fear._

Instinct kicked in and he levelled his blaster at the immediate threat, the blast sounding like a roar in his ears and striking true, piercing the helmet and collapsing the trooper even as he fired up his jetpack to cross the rest of the distance.

He wasn’t the religious sort, but whatever the powers that be, he hoped they were watching out for the kid as he crossed that last bit and hit his overboost full on, knocking the troopers back. They weren’t expecting him, which was strongly in his favor, but if they were worth being on patrol, they’d rally quick. He put up some shielding and placed himself between the downed cipher and the bulk of them, his second blaster in hand and raining blaster fire as quickly as he could without jamming them or overheating. Most went down fairly quickly, a surprise and a relief. It bought them time, at least. He had no delusions that _something_ hadn’t overheard the commotion, though no bets on _what._ Those lizard things, maybe. Blakk had the damnedest luck with those.

A quiet scuffling behind him alerted him to the kid’s movements, and he turned, finding Blakk on the ground and raising a shaking knife in his direction with a white-knuckled grip.

* * *

Blakk hadn’t known what was happening before something blasted him into the ground and threw the patrol in all directions.  He still wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired, except that it resulted in a tall Zabrak standing in front of him, and everyone else dead or dying around him.  The knife trembled as he fought to keep it steady, his vision going in and out of focus.  Was the man going to kill him too?  Blakk didn’t intend on going down easily.

“Put the knife down, kid, you don’t want me giving you a kolto shot from here,” the deep voice struck a cord, that infernal nickname … familiarity was there, that his faltering sight couldn’t give him. There was a gentleness to the tone, despite its gruffness, unexpected but this once not unwelcome. “Come on, Blakk. Pay attention - you’re better than this.”

“S-Seran …?” Blakk whispered, haltingly.  At the slight admonition, he scowled, _forcing_ his eyes to focus.  Red skin, black tattoos, and those demonic horns … it was the bounty hunter.   _Gods_ , it really _was_ him.  His hand shook, weakened, and the knife tumbled from his grip.

“I d-don’t … _how …?_ ”  He was hallucinating, wasn’t he?  That _had_ to be it.  Seran _was_ supposed to be here on Balmorra … but that was a while ago, before Blakk had detoured to Korriban, and he would never have expected the Zabrak to wait around … especially since Blakk had no intention of meeting up with him in the first place.  How was he still here?  How was he _here_ , all the way out from the city?

“Y’know, just for puttin’ me through this chase - and on top of being _late_ \- you’re buying drinks at the next decent cantina we come to.” The man sauntered over, kneeling in front of him, easier to focus on now. His words were _baffling_ , how could he possibly be thinking about going to _get drinks_ at a time like this? And yet … it was so _him_ , Blakk couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of hope that maybe, _just maybe_ , this was real.

A gloved hand tipped his head up, holding him still when he would have startled back, and there was something he would have called _concern_ on someone … not Seran-vin. “Well you’re a nasty mess. I’m gonna have to give you a shot of painkiller or something so you can _move_ ; there’ll be more trouble headed our way, fast, and it’s a ways off to the nearest safe zone.”

Blakk trembled, continuing to stare.  The voice sounded like him, and the words did … sort of.  But the bounty hunter’s actions were diverging from what he expected of the man.  Blakk tried to pull away, to shake his head, but the light grip was more than enough to keep him there.  “Don’t touch me,” he whispered, and was chagrined to hear it come out far from the authoritative command he’d been aiming for.

“Be glad I didn’t throw you over my shoulder and haul us out of here, brat.” That was a bit more like him; he’d probably do it, too. There was still that _concern,_ the bounty hunter looking back over his shoulder with a scowl and finally letting him go. The selection of supplies he had, just in his belt packs, was _impressive._ And a lot more detail than Blakk expected from a hallucination. “I think I might just give you a shot of adrenaline and smear some kolto on that cut. I’m not the best healer in the world, and some of the stuff you’ve got messed up needs proper tending we just don’t have time for.”

That … Blakk couldn’t find any reason to protest that.  It was what he’d have done himself if he’d had the supplies.  No painkillers, because that would make his head fuzzy, slow down his reaction time, but that adrenaline shot … yeah, that was what he needed.  He was running on fumes, and he could feel it.  

If this _wasn’t_ a hallucination, or even if it was, if he could just hang onto it long enough, he might just get out of here alive.  He still didn’t know _where_ he’d go, but as long as it was somewhere distant, dark, and safe, that was fine with him.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Atta boy.” Seran - or the Seran hallucination, he’d find out in a moment if the adrenaline rush cleared his head - pulled out a stim type injector, readying it in one hand while the other fished a cloth out of a side pouch. “Here, wipe your face, kid. You’re a gory mess.”

Scowling again, Blakk yanked the cloth from him.  He didn’t care if Seran had to look at his mess of a face; it wasn’t like it bothered Blakk any.  But he scrubbed it briefly across his cheeks and forehead, removing some of the grime and smearing the rest.  A tug and sharp pain at the edge of his scalp alerted him to the fact that he’d also succeeded in disturbing the coagulated blood clotting some kind of cut there; with his luck it would just start bleeding again.

The sharp prick and brief pressure at the side of his neck indicated the stim injection.  Within seconds, the adrenaline flooded his system, speeding up his heart and sharpening his vision to almost painful clarity.  He gasped, reeling slightly, a tremor running through him.

The hand that settled on his shoulder was solid, strong, and _real._ When he managed to look up, Seran-vin was arching a brow with some strange variation of his normal smirk - pleased with himself about something, clearly - but above all, he was _there._ He was _really there._ The smug, arrogant, insufferable Zabrak had stayed on this _rock_ , waiting for _him_ presumably, and somehow managed to track him out to … wherever he was now.

Blakk stared, a number of emotions running through him that he couldn’t identify.  When he finally moistened his dry lips, the only thing he managed to croak out was, “ _Why?_ ”

Seran’s smile faded a bit, vaguely there but something much more serious. “Because I told you I would.”

But that … that didn’t make any _sense!_  “But you don’t … you don’t _know_ me, you’re just …”   _Annoying, you start following me around one day for_ no reason _, and I don’t know_ why _, what’s the_ point _, what’s in it for_ you?  “Why don’t … why don’t you just go _away?_ ”  It was half plea and half genuine question.  Blakk didn’t know what to _do_ with Vin.  The entire pattern of his attitude and behavior was just … _inexplicable._

The bounty hunter stared hard at him with those bright, unnerving eyes for a moment before snorting softly, if at a private joke, and tapping at what looked like some sort of communications earpiece. “Found him, we’re heading back.”

For a minute, it seemed like he wasn’t going to get an answer, but Seran stood and offered him a hand. “ _Someone’s_ gotta watch your back.”

Blakk stared at the hand, followed it up to its owner.  “... But why _you?_ ” he asked, softly.

Seran chuckled softly, hand staying there, patiently waiting. Just like the Zabrak himself. “Cause I’m one of the only people with thick enough skin t’ stick around long enough for you to get used t’ the idea? Why _not,_ kid?”

Blakk glanced away, feeling rather hesitant and unsure, emotions that the damned bounty hunter and Sith tended to bring out in him more often than not.  His voice was still quiet.  “Because I don’t need anyone,” he insisted, before he could stop himself.  Inwardly, he cringed, belatedly realizing that he could very well be dead today without the Zabrak.

Oddly, Seran didn’t throw it back at him this time. He just waited, hand still out, voice soft and sombre. “Kid, _everybody_ needs _somebody_.”

There was another long moment of silence.  Blakk wanted to deny it with everything he had … but the day’s overwhelming evidence in support of it stopped the words in his throat, and he just didn’t know what to _do_ about it.  Finally, he reached up and tentatively accepted the Zabrak’s hand.  He didn’t _need_ it, he knew he didn’t … but standing up on his own right now was a pain that he didn’t really feel like dealing with.

There was no smug ‘I-told-you-so’ or lording being _right_ over him, just a small smile that was almost … approval? And then he was being pulled up with what seemed like unnerving ease, and he’d never _realized_ how _big_ the man was before! Fortunately, the hunter didn’t seem to realize his sudden shock - or at least didn’t know the source - and was just more concerned with being sure he was stable on his feet. “Think you can get some decent speed, kid?”

Blakk scowled, taking a half step away so he wouldn’t inadvertently stumble or lean into the Zabrak.  “I can run,” he muttered.  “I made it this far on my own.”  He wasn’t looking forward to it by any means, but with the adrenaline beating through him, the need to move was making his skin crawl, and it was just enough to overcome the otherwise debilitating pain of his leg.

“Good. Mako can pick us up, but not until we’re further away unless it’s an absolute necessity.” Seran scanned the area ahead, tapping his earpiece. “Mako, which way am I headed, anyway? It’s all a rocky dump.”

“ _Continue heading west, it’ll get you back to safety._ ” Mako’s voice was barely able to be heard, probably because they were so close still and Blakk was high with the adrenaline shot. Still, it was something, to know there was someone else in on this, as well.

“How far?” he asked.  Not that it made a difference, but it would give him an idea how long the adrenal stim should carry him.

“Mako? How far?” Seran repeated, starting at a walk probably just to get them going; Blakk wasn’t going to argue - every step was one step away from the enemy and one step closer to safety.

“ _You’ve got about fifty-five kilometers to be where I could try and get a speeder to you with any success, guys. I’ll do everything I can, but you’re just deep enough into the rebels’ space that the Republic is moving pretty freely, and lets face it - not many people would charge in like you did, boss._ ”

Fifty-five kilometers?  At _best_ , Blakk knew he could cover something like twelve or thirteen kilometers in an hour while running, but fifty-five?  That would’ve take them take them over four hours if he _hadn’t_ been injured, and he’d be lucky if the stim would last _one_.  They’d be lucky to make it out of here alive.

When he tuned back in, there was something strange about the smirk on the Zabrak’s lips as Mako spoke, his laugh a little dark. “I move mountains when its important, Mako. Just keep tabs and keep us informed, alright? We’re gonna get going.”

Keeping his eyes solidly on the ground, Blakk refused to comment on the distance.  He wondered if the hunter would do anything about it, not that there was anything that could be done.  He’d just have to keep going for as long as he could.  The last thing he wanted was to show any weakness.

Seran was quiet a moment, then stopped moving and there was a moment of stillness before the sound of fabric ripping. A quick look showed that the hunter’s coat was getting a quick, rather unfashionable trim as the Zabrak used a knife to cut a long strip of fabric from it.

Blakk pulled a couple steps ahead before stopping to turn and look.  “... I know it looks like a bathrobe, but surely it’s not _that_ bad,” he snarked, though he was unable to inject the usual amount of venom into his voice.  “I would think you wouldn’t want it any _shorter_ than it already is.”

“Your head’s bleeding,” Seran muttered, slitting the fabric again to open it up - thinner, but _clean_ inside, without all the dust from traveling around Balmorra. “C’mere or hold still, I need t’ wrap it a bit. When we get some more distance, I’ll see about that leg and your arm.”

The agent hesitated, eyeing the bounty hunter.  He had no real reason to believe it was a trick, but he still wanted to protest, just on principle.  There was no way he’d come out on top with that argument, however, since even his own common sense was telling himself he needed to do what he could to keep himself in one piece.  So, reluctantly, Blakk limped back, stopping just short of the other man.  He made sure his face had the most disapproving, uncooperative expression he could manage.  Vin was _not_ allowed to think that he was winning at _any_ point.

“Yeah, yeah, grumble grumble.” Blakk could have _sworn_ there was a smirk there. He _heard_ it. Or something. Still, the Zabrak was quick and apparently pretty good at patching things up. An odd concept, but as far as the list of ‘strange’ they were working on, it could be dismissed. “Alright, that should do. Ready to book it?”

Stiffly, Blakk nodded, fingering the cloth wrap and wincing slightly.  At least it would keep the blood from getting into his eyes.  Turning once more, he started away again, quickening his halting pace to keep up with Seran as the man drew even, and then ahead of him.  He could do this.  He _would,_ because there was no way he was losing to that damn Zabrak.

* * *

  
_to be continued…_   



	4. Chapter 4

Blast, but the kid was a mess. He was _alive,_ which was a relief beyond measure, but he was also pretty wrecked and it showed. He was stubborn, stupidly so sometimes, but right now that was probably what was keeping him on his feet. It was sure as heck the only thing keeping him _moving._  
  
Seran was pretty sure he’d end up carrying Blakk, eventually, which would be alright if the kid was tired enough not to squirm. The Intelligence Agent wasn’t a big person to begin with, and without his equipment as well, he’d be easy enough to carry. Wasn’t like he’d be trying to haul the Dashade around or something - _that_ would be a pain. He’d probably have to take off his coat and _drag_ him or-

Years of having people pop up at quite literally the _worst_ times, more prepared to kill him than he usually was to avoid being killed, had Seran ducking around to the side, _something_ heading their way. Airborn. _Big._

The giant lizard missed him, but the kid wasn’t so lucky.  Too focused on simply moving, he never knew anything was coming before it struck, knocking him off his feet and slamming him into the ground.  The raw, agonized yell was short and sharp enough to make Seran wince even as he came back around, boot lashing out at the side to try and knock it away. When he could get good enough aim to be sure anything that somehow went through wouldn’t hit Blakk, he blasted it a few times, stepping back when it swung its head around at him.

Lizards had _no_ business looking at him like their next meal. That just wasn’t right. “Get back down on the food chain where you belong.”

Ooh, nasty bite it had, too, looking at those _teeth._ So wrong ... At least it thought he was pest enough to come after him, give Blakk time to get his bearings.

From the corner of his eye, Seran saw the kid attempting to push himself up with one shaking arm, but he couldn’t seem to quite make it to his feet.  A knife was clutched tightly in his good hand, and he looked inclined to stab the damn lizard … if he could just make it over there.

Briefly - _very_ briefly - Seran considered getting a spare pistol into the kid’s hand, but the way he was shaking … not the best course of action, not yet. Not unless they _had_ to, though … was that a scrabble of claws he was hearing? _Aw hell, another one?_ “Look sharp to your right, Blakk - got another lizard.”

The warning had Blakk rolling over to bring the knife into play.  He wanted to stand, Seran could tell, but the lizard simply wasn’t going to give him the time for it, not at the pace Blakk was moving.  The kid backpedaled in a bid for more space, brandishing his knife, as the lizard advanced.

It might be enough room if Seran could just kill this one and get over there, but it was _determined._ He’d dealt with his share of the things over the past few days here, but there was an unexplained _ferocity_ here that made no sense. It wasn’t just hungry or curious, the creature legitimately wanted them _dead._

As he dealt with his own lizard, the one targeting Blakk rapidly advanced, easily closing the gap between them.  The kid lashed out at it with one booted foot, striking it soundly in the jaw, which only seemed to make it more angry.  It howled, darting its head forward with maw gaping, only for a knife to sink deeply into its nose and sizzle with discharged electricity, sending the lizard spasming. It was a reassuring reminder that even if he _was_ in serious need of more practical experience, Blakk had a good head on his shoulders and could be a _vicious_ little thing.

They’d need that. Something seemed _off_ about these two, and until he could figure out what it was, the danger could be a lot worse than he knew. Plus, it was eating their escape time, and Blakk’s energy.

“Down you go,” he growled, shooting straight into its open mouth and getting a sick, but very final sounding gurgle for his efforts. “ _Die,_ damn you!”

Blakk had left the charged knife in the lizard’s head and was now driving a second vibroblade into its jaw and neck, anywhere he could reach, hoping to strike something vital.  The lizard thrashed, clawing at the ground, sharp claws kicking up clods of dirt and slamming down randomly.  It was all Blakk could do to avoid them.

A few more shots slumped the one Seran was dealing with down, and he almost made a turn back to Blakk before he heard a low, ominous sort of growling. Gold eyes scanned the area until he spotted _another_ peering at them, and, damn it, had they stepped into a colony area or something?

A strangled sound from Blakk came as the other lizard appeared to fall across him, face a mangled, bloody mess, but Seran didn’t have the chance to divert his attention to it as two additional lizards clambered over the rocks and began to weave toward them.

This was _not_ in any way an improvement. The ‘colony’ theory was starting to have some actual potential, and he did _not_ appreciate the universe peeking in his head for ideas about how to screw him over. The question was what he could _do_ about it, while keeping Blakk safe, _and_ not essentially shouting their location to anyone who _hadn’t_ noticed yet.

Panting, Blakk laboriously crawled out from beneath the lizard using only his one good arm and leg.  He paused long enough to yank the formerly electrified blade from the lizard’s nose and very deliberately place it in his burned right hand, closing the fingers around the hilt with his left.  Then, the second knife clutched in his off hand, he continued hauling himself free.

Slowly, Blakk managed to climb to his feet.  As the three lizards paused, heads weaving and tongues flicking, he straightened stiffly, weight centered over his left leg, and faced them.  He could barely function, barely _stand_ , but damn if the kid didn’t look like he was prepared to carry it through to the end.

Seran might have to revise his thoughts and be the one to treat them to a good drink after this; kid had _earned_ it.

Of course, first they had to get out intact.

* * *

Blakk stared down the lizards, breathing heavily.  Already, three of them had climbed over the ridge, with quite possibly more where they came from.  They’d already killed _two_ of them, _and_ a patrol, and that was after Blakk had crawled out of the wreck of his own ship.  He wanted to scream with the futility of it all.  There was no way he’d be getting out of this, was there?

It just wasn’t _fair_.  He didn’t want to die.  He’d barely survived the wreck, and it made him realize just how _scared_ he really was.  Dying _hurt._   And he was too afraid to find out what was next.

He couldn’t let Seran see that, though.  In fact, there was no real reason for him to be here, was there?  This was useless; Seran could get away easy with his jetpack.  He couldn’t hope to protect Blakk from all the lizards, so he might as well save himself the trouble and get away while he could.  There was no way Blakk was coming home.

Licking his lips, Blakk did his best to raise his voice without prompting an onset of coughing.  “Go … just go.”  It was better than a whisper, but far from the shout he’d been hoping for.

The Zabrak flicked his eyes over to him, then snorted like he’d cracked some funny joke. But there was no joking in the hunter’s tone, or in his eyes, when he looked at him full on, adjusting his blaster settings. “Kid, I don’t leave people behind. _Ever._ I sure as hell ain’t startin’ with _you._ ”

“What difference does it make?” Blakk snarled.  “We both know your presence isn’t going to make a difference.  This is all just so … _pointless._ ”

“Just hold on, kid. We’re not dead, so it’s not over.” Blakk was counting the lizards, more of them popping up right before their eyes; did Seran truly not see it was time to cut his losses and run? Was he _that_ stupid? “We might still have an ace, anyway.”

“What _ace?_ ”  Blakk demanded.  He shook his head, glaring at the vile lizards and willing the angry sting in his eyes to go away.  “We’re just going to _die_ here!  And I don’t want to die with _you_.  You disgust me.  Damn alien _scum._ ”  The knife in his hand shook.

Seran _did_ look amused this time, bastard, with that insufferable smirk and a little shake of his head. He didn’t even deign to _say_ anything, just shifted his stance and continued to look over the advancing group, thinking. Calculating.

They were going to _die_.

Damn him.  And damn _everyone_.  Even after all this, Blakk had no one but himself, and he was going to _die._   Well, screw Vin and whatever the hell it was he thought he was doing - Blakk wasn’t just going to stand there and wait for it.  With a broken yell, he raised his knife and started forward, fully intending to meet the lizards halfway and take at least one of them with him.

For a moment, it was as if the world slowed, forcing him to take the time to think about everything that had lead to this horrible last moment, all the things he’d _thought_ were important and all the things he hadn’t realized really _were_ important … regrets and what-ifs were pointless, but they _lingered_ , and oh this was going to hurt in _so_ many ways …  
  
And then there was something, some subtle shift as the air seemed to thicken, a faint crackle he’d grown used to listening for coming from somewhere.  His eyes widened, and before he could even take the time to think, he threw himself roughly to the side, tumbling from momentum and curling up, dropping the metal in his hands and praying he wouldn’t be hit ...

There was a blur at his side, Seran-vin hitting his knees beside him and activating some shielding with an absolutely _feral_ grin of vicious glee. Blakk would have asked him what he could _possibly_ be so _happy_ about, when he was distracted by an almost blinding flash and the crackling turning into a nearly deafening _roar._

Force lightning.

_Force lightning._

When he could finally stand the brightness of it and looked up, he beheld a darkly radiant figure atop a small cliff peak, hands raised to the sky.  She contained so much raw power that her eyes were nearly luminescent, a vibrant, glowing gold like some kind of vengeful deity.  Thick cords of blinding violet lightning twined from her hands and lashed at the pack of lizards, snapping and spitting like some uncontrollable wildfire.  The lizards screamed, writhing on the ground, as the smell of burnt flesh stung his nose.

In what could have been hours or minutes, the sound cut off, the light fading as the screaming had stopped. Smoking corpses and piles of ash were all that remained on the charred, blackened ground.  Strong afterimages dotted his eyes.  From the smoke, there had to have been more of them than he’d realized, and they were all dead. _One_ attack…

His shock was somewhat interrupted by an excited whoop. “By the stars, girl, you don’t kid around do you? Now _that_ is fire power.”

“Quit running your mouth and help him up, you moron - we’re not to safety yet.” The crisp accent was what made it all snap into place, the Force Lightning, and those gold eyes _glaring_ at him with so much more emotion than he’d ever seen. “And _you,_ Force, I can’t leave you anywhere can I? What were you _thinking?_ ”

Blakk discovered he was shaking.  “S-Saare?”  She was actually _there?_   But … it _couldn’t_ be her.  He’d left her behind!  How … _why?_

“Corellian hells, Blakk, if you _ever_ scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.” She snarled, stalking down to them in a swish of dark robes. “And I will do a _much_ more thorough job than a bunch of questionably sentient _lizards -_ FORCE, what is your _problem?_ Is it so kriffing hard to let someone help you? You’re not immortal!”

“I … I …”  He stared at her, then made an attempt to regain control of the situation.  He scowled.  “I _crashed_ and you’re worried about _lizards?_ ”  There, that was something he could argue on, though, gods, if he didn’t feel so jittery ...

She finally reached them, energy still crackling around her gloved fists as she stared at him like she was trying to read things right from his soul. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking. “As soon as I’m sure it won’t kill you, I am going to smack you so hard your face will be pink. Vin, help him over this hill. You’ll drive us back while I see to his injuries.”

“Yes’m.” Apparently, even Seran-vin didn’t argue that tone.

“I don’t _need_ help,” was the first, automatic thing to spill from his mouth.  Even as he said it, he realized just how ridiculous it sounded in the face of all that had happened.  “I’ll walk there _myself_ ,” he clarified, tone sullen but defiant.  He’d made it this far _on his own_ \- minus the patrol and monsters bit -  and he refused to let anyone help him the rest of the way.

“And die trying.” She sneered, narrowing her eyes and making a gesture to the bounty hunter. “I have a speeder and Mako will meet us at the next safe area and bring us to my ship.”

Seran made his way over, giving him an apologetic look and trying to brace him. “C’mon, kid. Let’s not argue with she-who-barbeques-lizards, okay?”

Blakk scowled.  He’d argue as much as he _wanted_.  But … he _was_ tired.  _Exhausted_ , if he was being truthful with himself, and, well … as long as Vin wasn’t going to _carry_ him ….  After glaring at the dirt for several more moments, he began to struggle to his feet.  As long as he didn’t _ask_ for help, it didn’t matter whether Vin helped him or not - it still wouldn’t count.

Apparently, his silence was enough, and a strong arm secured carefully around his waist, keeping him steady. Which was more helpful than he planned to say - definitely a relief to have something steady. Saare-ha was going on ahead, and he heard the low thrum of a speeder starting up. It was a surprise to see the _size_ of it, though, a full-blown four-seater landspeeder; he sure didn’t remember her having _that_ before!

“Niiiiiiice.” He could almost see Seran-vin pricing it as he looked it over. “And I drive?”

“Break it, you buy it, and I may just have to gut you if you ruin our escape.” She informed him icily. It was … rather impressive, how _furious_ she could sound without ever raising her voice.

Blakk wasn’t really looking forward to find that anger turned upon him, and attempted to go as slow as he could manage.  Which … well, he needn’t have _tried_ , really.  He was quite sure he was already going as slow as humanly possible, simply because he couldn’t get himself to go any _faster._   He’d discovered that his leg refused to take any more weight - it just _hurt_ too much.  So he was one-legging it, hopping as best he could.  He tried not to lean against Seran any more than necessary, but it was becoming increasingly more necessary, especially with the arm around him causing his ribs to pinch into him like daggers, and each step jarringly painful.  He was panting heavily, knives in his chest and throat, sweat stinging the gash on his forehead by the time they reached the landspeeder.

“Alright, here we go … delivery for ya, Saare.” Seran smirked, leaving them to get settled as he presumably went to familiarize himself with the controls.

Those gold eyes turned on him, narrowed a touch as they looked him over. “I’m going to levitate you. You can behave, or you can be knocked out.”

Blakk scowled, holding tightly to the side of the speeder.  He didn’t like _either_ option.  He didn’t trust the Force - all he needed was her to _drop_ him or _crush_ him by accident.  But he wasn’t about to be knocked out, either!  After a moment of glaring at the dirt, he finally muttered, “ _Fine._ ”

She nodded faintly, holding a hand up and moving it in a gesture he still didn’t know if she _needed,_ lifting him slowly and turning him so he would lay on the less battered side, stretched out presumably while she tended him. Though he had no plans to say so, that much was a relief - he _knew_ Saare could heal, and knew quite a lot about making medicines. She may plan to make his life hell, but this wasn’t going to kill him.

He sighed and shut his eyes briefly as she set him - surprisingly gently - onto the cushions in the back of the speeder.  The brief flight had made him dizzy, and for a few moments, he just didn’t want to open his eyes at all.  Gods, but if he could just _sleep_ … if someone could just wake him up when this was all over and tell him it had been a _dream_ ….

There was a soft rustle of fabric, Saare-ha telling Seran-vin to get them out of there, and then they were moving; a surprisingly gentle touch was cleaning the sweat and blood away from his face, presumably to look at the scalp wound. He heard her tsk, but she didn’t say anything more, checking him over carefully.

Slowly, Blakk cracked his eyes open.  A brief sting had him wincing, but he remained silent otherwise.  He supposed the head injury was really the least of his worries, and he didn’t really feel like talking, at any rate.  He wasn’t sure _how_ he felt.  Drained and overwhelmed, all at once.  He still couldn’t fully believe that Seran and Saare were really here, or that he’d really survived that crash.  Maybe he’d believe it when they got back to safety … wherever that was.  After a brief glance up at the Sith, he dropped his eyes, deliberately avoiding hers.

She said nothing, taking surprising amounts of care as she applied a bit of bandaging and what might have been a topical pain killer, because it eased up just a little. Then she was checking the rest of him over, still careful and quiet about it, only the slightest touches apparently needed for the exam. Which didn’t mean it didn’t _hurt,_ but … it was a lot better than _expected,_ for which he was silently grateful.

He felt himself relaxing incrementally, weariness settling over him.  He didn’t want to get _too_ comfortable - he was around Saare, after all, and she was _Sith_.  And he knew she’d have to set the leg, or peel the fabric from his burns at some point … but it was getting harder and harder to stay alert, especially with the stim having long-since worn off and wrung him out.  Everything hurt, and he just didn’t want to be here anymore.  

After some amount of time he couldn’t be sure of, he realized that she was trying to get his attention. “- going to cut your boot, and your pants if I have to. The leg needs set.”

“You, uh … want me to _stop_ for that?” Seran-vin sounded reasonably unsettled with the idea, and Blakk blinked, not having realized they’d been _moving_.

“ _Yes_ ,” Blakk said, or tried to.  He choked on the word, coughed painfully a few times, and had to try again.  Gritting his teeth, he ground out the word.  “ _Yes!_ ”  He didn’t trust the vehicle not to hit a bump and Saare not to cut off his leg, and he was pretty certain that something of this magnitude required absolute stillness.  The idea of setting his leg unsettled him at least as much as it sounded like it did Vin.

Saare-ha sighed and muttered, but made a gesture and - mercifully - the vehicle slowed under Seran-vin’s guide. When it was stopped, he heard the man get up and a soft clicking. “I’ll tell Mako the ETA, and stand guard. Just … do all the sensitive stuff now, alright? We’ve got time.”

The Sith didn’t say anything on the matter, getting a small, sharp blade out that would apparently be used to cut the various clothing away. At least it wasn’t her lightsaber.

“You … _do_ know what you’re doing with that, right?” Blakk asked, trying to keep his nervousness from showing.  From everything he’d ever seen, Saare was great at swinging widely and bisecting things, _not_ necessarily doing detail work.

Gold eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. “A smaller blade is far easier, and I have yet to have opportunity to build my own lightsaber; I’m not going to accidentally chop anything off. I didn’t _save_ you just to let you die by trying to _help._ ”

He glared at her for a moment, before shifting his gaze to the floor of the vehicle.  “Why _did_ you save me, then?” he muttered quietly in an almost accusatory manner, not really having intended to say it, but the words coming out before he could stop himself.  He didn’t really expect an answer, and hoped she hadn’t heard.

There was a while of silence as she carefully cut his pants away, working with careful precision that was a relief to see even if it did leave him with one leg nearly bare. Before moving on to the boot, she took time to examine what was bared so far, badly bruised below the knee and extremely painful, surrounding skin gashed by the ragged metal of the ship, but it didn’t look like anything that _wouldn’t_ heal up in time.  Thank the gods it hadn’t been a compound fracture.

It was almost a shock when she spoke, just loud enough to be heard. “You will believe what you want about my reasons and goals, Blakk. In a way, I suppose you’re right; I’m still just a slave.”

Startled, he briefly looked up at her, before dropping his gaze once more.  He felt sick, and it had nothing to do with the swollen, blue-black and bloody appearance of his leg, though that didn’t help.  His words to her last time they were together had been … well … honestly atrocious. 

_I don't have the time to waste with third-class citizens - go cavort with your fellow slaves in the construction yards. Maybe you'll find a better gullible sap among someone of your own kind._

He’d just been trying to get her off his back, that was all.  He hadn’t needed her always _there_ , always _watching over his shoulder_ , always _criticizing_ , always telling him what he’d been doing _wrong_ , how he was _reckless_ , how he’d get himself _killed_ if it wasn’t for her …  Honestly, he _didn’t need …_

_Just like today, Blakk?  Just like you didn’t need her today when you looked for her and she wasn’t there?  Just like you didn’t need her when you were about to be torn apart by lizards?  Just like you didn’t need Seran when you were about to be executed?  Just like you didn’t need either of them to come pick you up when you were practically falling apart?_

Blakk’s hands shook, and he clenched them, shivering.  The air seemed so much colder now.

There was a moment, he thought maybe she was going to talk about it, make _him_ talk about it, but she didn’t. She was quiet, and then she was working again to get rid of his boot and examine his leg, probably to figure out how to set it. Whatever chance there had just been, whatever opening there had been, was gone for now. There was something … almost impersonal about her tending him now, considering she’d normally be talking to him the _whole time_ , telling him what he should have done, making him rehash what went wrong, and generally being an annoyance.

He sighed softly.  He was getting to have a real talent for saying the wrong things at the wrong time … or not saying the right things when he should.  Well, it wasn’t like he knew what he’d say, anyway.  So, maybe it didn’t matter. 

It only took a few moments for her to get rid of the boot, and he found his heart speeding up as it meant she was getting closer to setting the bone.

“... Maybe you should wait for a _professional_ to do that,” he said, voice rasping.  He was _not_ looking forward to this, and the longer he could delay it, the better.

“I’ve set plenty of broken bones, Blakk. Not as many at this angle, but this way is simpler.” Before he could ask what she _meant_ by that - because it couldn’t be what it _sounded_ like - he felt a sort of stiffness creeping over him. Not a literal restraint, at least not one he could _see …_ it had to be more of her Force use, keeping him still while she worked.

Which meant _no pulling away_.

“Kinda creepy when she does that,” Seran-vin observed.

Blakk’s heart rose into his throat and he made a strangled sound.  He didn’t like this.  He didn’t like this _at all_.  It was the _Force_ , something _twisted_ and _unnatural_ , and while he could suffer being lifted with it, he _couldn’t_ have it touching him, _restraining_ him, not like this! 

“No … _stop!_   Let me go …” he whispered, hoarsely.  He struggled against it, only to find it binding tighter.  “ _Damn_ it, Saare … let me _go!_ ”

Against all logic, she paused, placing a hand on his forehead; no further tightening, but she didn’t release him yet either. “Stop struggling and I’ll let go. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“How the hell did he manage to survive around you, scared of the Force?” He could hear Seran-vin’s incredulity, as the man came around to the back of the speeder, but it was a bit less important than being able to see someone else - someone who might be a voice of reason.

He froze, ready to do just about anything to get her to banish the Force.  “ _Let me go_ ,” he repeated, trying to keep the full amount of desperation from his voice.  “Seran, tell her - she doesn’t need to do this, she should let a _professional_ …” 

“Let me brace him, Saare.” The Zabrak’s voice was softer, and maybe there was something more than he could pick up, panicked as he was, but all that mattered was that he could feel large, warm hands settle on his shoulders and that awful, unnatural _power_ was gone. He was free, it was just Saren holding him - not great, but much better. “You need something in your mouth while she does this, Blakk?”

Blakk shook his head too fast and set it to pounding.  “No … no, I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.”  His voice was shaky, and he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.  Closing his eyes, he tried to calm down, get himself back under control, focusing on that steady, warm touch.

“So’s now a bad time t’ ask you when I’m allowed to get him drunk?” Seran ventured, fingertips tapping absently. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was something he could focus on, could count the beats, steady enough they were almost measured. “Because I need a drink after this.”  _One, two, three ..._

“Seran, please refrain from getting _anyone_ drunk any time soon.”

“Ignore her, Seran.  Now’s good,” he said, voice stretched tight.  _Six, seven, eight_ … If there were any gods, he wished they _would_ let him get drunk right now.  The beats continued, Blakk’s heart double-timing it right along with them.  _When_ was she going to do it?  How long would it take?  Just keep counting … _fourteen, fifteen, sixteen …_

There was pressure on his ankle and around his knee, unexpected, so he twitched, losing count of the taps.  But, no, it was okay, because it was Seran’s hand on his knee, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze, and it didn’t hurt.  He restarted his counting, cracked his eyes open to watch Seran …

And suddenly there was _fire_ , biting into his lower leg and _consuming_ it, and he saw stars, and there was a sharp, broken _scream_ …

And then it vanished to a dull, burning roar, and he gasped, uncontrolled breaths coming out in a strangled sob.

Seran ruffled his hair gently, deep voice grounding him in the moment. “All done, kid. You did good. Now let us get somethin’ tied around to keep you in place, and then we’ll get blazing a trail outta here.”

Blakk nodded, shaking.  Gods, that had _hurt_ , but at least it was _over_.  He wanted to go _home._ Closing his eyes, he focused on trying to bring his breathing back under control.  He could feel a pair of tears streaking their way down his cheeks, but they somehow felt less important after that ordeal.  He curled up just slightly, bringing himself incrementally closer to the comfort Seran offered … which there was no way the bounty hunter could notice.

The Zabrak resumed the absent tapping, which he latched onto as another focus point. “Hey, let’s get that shoulder first, actually. I can get that quicker, and I bet it _hurts._ They’re a duller pain once they get popped back in, promise.”

Blakk groaned.  He didn’t _want_ more pain, but he nodded, slowly.  If it could make the arm throb less … and if he could actually _move_ it without it feeling like someone was trying to grind his shoulder off … that would be a plus.

“Atta boy. Grit your teeth and count down with me, there’ll be a handful of seconds where it’ll hurt _bad,_ but no worse than that leg. Five … four … three … _two_ …” Seran shifted their weight _fast_ when he grunted _one_ , and held him still a moment as the world spun. But he’d been telling the truth, because while it had been excruciating for those few moments, it eased to a dull - _bearable_ \- ache. “Back with us, Blakk?”

Blakk let himself sink into the cushions, nodding tiredly.  The tingling in his arm was fading, and he thought he could almost move his fingers … if only he felt like it.  But he didn’t.  He just wanted to do nothing at all, except maybe hide from everything, somewhere _warm_ \- because that burning fire was fading, and its loss was making him shiver.  Maybe he’d even sleep for a short while.

“Alright, Saare you take it from here - I’ll get us the hell out of here.” Seran gave him one last pat and rose, grunting a bit as he eased out and presumably headed to the front.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

They’d ‘discussed’ where they would end up for the entire trip between when Mako picked them up and when they reached Saare-ha’s ship. Of course, the Sith made enough valid points that she would have gotten her way even if she didn’t look ready to send him the way of the lizards, but that definitely played a part in it. 

So, now they were on _her_ ship, in the safest area she could get them with the considerable pull of a Sith. Saare was focused on tending Blakk - he’d been out cold by their arrival, so it was easy enough to cart him inside and get him in the kolto tank - and Seran was keeping an eye on the monitoring equipment. He wasn’t sure where the Dashade had gotten to, but Mako was currently on his ship, keeping things straight. Another kid he was lucky to have around, and a more mellow one, thank the gods, because this whole thing was a _mess._  

He’d had to leave the medbay after a bit, because watching Blakk floating there in that tank … it was something he’d seen before, through the lense of some very elite security feeds, and he would have been happy to have never had that knowledge. The Force was a pretty incredible thing, and he believed it existed because he’d seen it in action, even if he was iffy about what it really _was._ But he knew, from talking to Saare, what it meant to those who grew up with it. And he could tell that even if Blakk didn’t _actively_ remember _,_ he definitely _knew_ , deep down. Deep down, the Force was still important to him, somehow. The way he’d reacted to Saare using it on him … that _fear …_ it made some horrible sense. Somewhere deep in his psyche, some part of the kid still remembered the agony of the loss, of the horror of having something so fundamental to his existence just stripped away. It explained a lot about Korriban, too. Maybe even why that Sith Councilor had targeted him on Dromund Kaas. 

On his way down the corridor, a persistent tone from his comlink finally pulled Seran’s attention from his musings. Grunting in annoyance, he paused to flick it open, eyeing it a moment. “Yeah?” 

“ _Seran?  Good, I thought I wouldn’t get through._ ”  It was Kaliyo, and for a moment Seran thought she sounded a bit strange … hesitant, maybe, or subdued.  Whatever it was, the Rattataki didn’t quite sound like her usual cynical, psychopathic self. 

“Plannin’ t’ actually hold a conversation instead of hanging up when we need your info?” he drawled darkly, not bothering to hide his disapproval of _that._ It wasn’t that hard to spit out a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was it? _One_ syllable, he thought even she ought to be able to make time for that. Whatever. “Whatcha need?” 

There was a moment of silence on the other end.  Whether she was contemplating an apology or not, she didn’t give him one.  “ _I was wondering if you found him,_ ” she said, briefly. 

Oh no, he was _not_ taking that from her. The Zabrak leaned against the wall, voice dry. “Oh I found him. Ship’s _trash_ , by the way.” 

A slow exhale breathed through the line.  “ _... He’s dead?_ ”  It wasn’t quite a whisper … but on anyone else, it might have been. 

“I didn’t say that,” he noted neutrally. “He coulda been, _real_ easy, though. I got damn lucky finding him when I did. Next time we go asking for information and there’s a life on the line, a little more cooperation might be nice. I’d hate for little miss Sith to hear about it, y’know?” 

“ _That Sith doesn’t scare me,_ ” Kaliyo retorted, defensively.  “ _Besides, I couldn’t be sure who was calling.  I was protecting Blakk._ ” 

“Uh huh, an’ once you knew?” he retorted. “Cause you did. You called me by name, girlie, don’t act like you didn’t know _exactly_ who was talkin’ to you by the time we talked.” 

“ _I … something came up.  I couldn’t stay on the line._ ” 

“Is that so,” he drawled. “Took your sweet time gettin’ back to us, too. But I guess you’ve got your priorities, just like I’ve got mine. You wanna know more, I suggest you get your happy self down to Balmorra while I’m feelin’ generous.” 

“ _..._ Fine _.  I have a delivery there, anyway._ ” 

“Smart girl,” he purred, smirking. “You just call Mako when you get here. We’ll talk.” 

“ _Yeah.  Whatever._ ”  The line went silent. 

He calmly clicked the comm off, tucking it back in his pocket and indulging in a silent snarl. If the Rattataki wanted to play around, that was her business, her career, but if she kept playing around with things he thought were important, he might just have to remind her who’d been in the business longer. He wasn’t a big name outside certain circles, but he _liked_ it that way. Part of a good job was not getting caught unless there was a good reason, and seldom was there a good reason. 

Squaring his shoulders, Seran-vin continued on his way - best make sure Saare-ha had taken time to eat and rest; she’d do them no good getting run down when they _could_ rest. 

Before he could take three steps, however, another sound diverted his attention again, but this time it was an alarm blaring from the medbay. Turning sharply, he bolted back down the corridor, checking his blaster even though there was no sound to indicate there was an intruder or outside danger. Something wrong with Blakk? The kid had been a _mess,_ but he’d thought the worst had been taken care of … 

* * *

He was drowning.  There was water over his head and he couldn’t _breathe_ , and he could feel his life slowly trickling away, right through his fingers.  His vision was a blurry _mess_ , but when he met a cold, solid surface with his fingertips when he attempted to swim to safety, he could only come to one conclusion. 

 _Trapped_. 

They were going to kill him now, and he was _helpless_ against it.  And he would die slowly, feeling every agonizing moment as his life was drained away … 

In a panic, he pounded on the invisible surface before him, willing it to break, for someone to _stop this, stop it_ please _let me out, I don’t want to die,_ please! 

There was a sudden loud rushing sound, followed by an even louder gurgle and then the liquid was _moving_ , down and _away_ from him. There was some other sound, but it wasn’t enough to pierce the roaring in his ears, panic making even his own pulse sound deafening. 

Despite his efforts, he was carried down with the liquid, until his feet encountered a solid floor.  Suddenly, his head was above the water, but the air still felt thick, a sickly-sweet smell, and he coughed, trying to clear his lungs.  His legs failed to support him, sending him back into the liquid, causing him to gasp and flail, and continue coughing.  He couldn’t seem to draw a proper breath.  Somehow the liquid was still clogging his nose and mouth! 

There were more noises, muffled to his senses, and then he was being hauled upright. The handling was somewhat rough, but it meant someone else was there, someone who _wasn’t_ going to leave him trapped and drowning. 

There weren’t too many people he could say that of, and the feel of some cloth rubbing briskly over his face and hair was accompanied by the voice one of the precious few who seemed so inclined. He couldn’t make out the words, but he _knew_ that deep timbre. 

Blakk’s fingers curled weakly into the clothing of the man supporting him.  “S-Seran?” he gasped, choking on the words.  “Can’t b- … can’t breathe …” 

“Kolto mist, kid - your lungs had smoke damage.” Seran’s words finally began to come together, and Blakk felt the hunter’s hand over his, making him feel the mask on his face. “Just medicine. Told you, I’m not lettin’ you die.” 

Kolto mist?  But … it was still hard to breathe.  Blakk needed the mask _off._  His hand shook as he searched for the edge of the mask in a bid to pry it off. 

“Nuh-uh, don’t even try it. Calm down and take in a big breath. Let it out slow.” Seran-vin’s voice took on an authoritative tone he rarely bothered to use, deep and commanding. “C’mon, kid. You gonna freak out or you gonna calm down and own this? It’s pure panic, kid. Nothin’ you can’t handle.” 

Still gasping irregularly, Blakk’s gaze met Seran’s, searching for a visible anchor point to match the one in the man’s voice.  At a particularly vivid sense of suffocation, Blakk’s hands twitched violently in an attempt to throw the mask off regardless of Seran’s words.  But he found his hands securely locked in Seran’s grip - one pinned beneath an arm where it had been clutching at the Zabrak’s shirt, and another in Seran’s large, warm hand.  He closed his eyes tightly, shuddering as the feeling washed over him, then returned his gaze to Seran’s. 

Eventually, he was able to force his breathing to become more regular, less erratic.  He focused on matching his breaths to the rise and fall of Seran’s chest. Oddly, a little smile slowly began to touch the man’s features, and Blakk noted rather belatedly that the breaths were slow and deep, moreso than the Zabrak probably needed. 

Or maybe he’d been imagining it, because the smile finally took full force and then the man was stepping back, nodding slightly. “Better. _That_ is more like it. You’re not dyin’ today, kid. Not on my watch, you hear me?” 

Blakk stumbled a little as Seran withdrew, weight shifting to his uninjured leg, though the grip on his hands, gentle on the burnt one, was still sure and steady.  He gazed at the Zabrak a moment longer, before slowly nodding.   _Not on my watch._  Blakk found he could actually _believe_ it, and he wasn’t sure which surprised him more.  Somehow, the words made him feel … _safe._  

Glancing around and blinking the lingering liquid from his eyes, he discovered he was in a small medbay somewhere … standing on the kolto tank platform, to be precise.  The breathing mask was still anchored to the wall.  As the cool air of the room registered on his bare, still-wet skin, he began to shiver.   

“You’re stuck with the mask, kid, so don’t fuss at that,” Seran informed him mildly, and whether it was intentioned or not, a little pat on the shoulder when he let go of one hand pushed him back just enough to tell him where the nearest surface he could subtly rest against was. 

And then there was a towel dropped over his shoulders, blissfully warm and large enough for a short Gamorrean. “Here, keep that around you; don’t need you dripping everywhere.” 

“Where would I drip?” Blakk said, voice raspy and muffled by the mask.  “It looks like I’m stuck on this stupid platform.”  He pulled the towel tightly around himself with his one good hand, the other one still red, blistered, and angry.  With a grunt, he let himself slide down the wall, injured leg stretched out in front of him.  The platform was wet and cold, and all he wore was a pair of shorts.  This was not going to be fun, as he was essentially stuck there while he wore the mask.  “How long do I have to stay here?” 

“‘Til I can bother our resident healer about gettin’ you a place to stretch out. If you’re gonna be awake, might as well just layer you up with some bandages and at least let you stretch out in bed with some holovids or somethin’ right?” Seran shrugged, smiling in that little ‘if only you knew what I knew’ way. At least this time it didn’t seem at his expense. 

“... Right … I suppose.”  Blakk eyed Seran, wondering what the smile was about, and somewhat suspicious of it.  But he was cold, and even though he wasn’t mentally tired at the moment after the not-drowning adrenaline rush, he could tell his body was, and curling up in a bed was exactly what he wanted to do.  He didn’t care about the holovids - they were all a stupid, ridiculous waste of time - but maybe he could read something useful. 

“Can’t hurt to ask, right?” And there was that ‘I’m tempting fate’ grin that normally did _not_ bode well, but it was a little different this time. Playful, as if Seran was inviting him to _share_ the joke - not _be_ it. If he was reading that right, it would be a welcome change. 

Blakk found himself wishing he knew just what the joke was supposed to be.  How could you share a joke, if you didn’t know what it was?  He licked his lips to ask and shuddered at the gods-awful taste of the kolto on them, but found he didn’t really know what words to use.  So he just nodded and let his gaze slide away, hugging the towel tighter.  Maybe he was just imagining it.  Wishful thinking. 

When Seran-vin opened the door, there was an overwhelming feeling of _doom_ that passed - blessedly brief - over him. Looking sharply, he found Saare-ha standing rather close to the Zabrak, a finger poking him rather ineffectively in the chest. It was a bit of a surprise to realize how _short_ she was, particularly in comparison. In a lot of ways, she seemed so much taller, but it may well have been the size of her personality. While Seran-vin was exasperatingly laid back, Saare-ha was often just the opposite, serious and stern. And apparently quite angry with the man, who was just grinning down at her. 

Blakk tried to be as inconspicuous as he possibly could upon the kolto platform.  It wasn’t exactly all that bright in here; maybe the towel would help camouflage him and she’d ignore him completely. 

For the moment, she seemed perfectly content to chew Seran-vin out, increasingly angry as he watched her with a lopsided smirk somewhere between fondly indulgent and flat-out amused. It was a wonder, given the mood she’d been in last Blakk could recall, that Seran hadn’t been slapped or electrocuted or _something._ The agent wished they were at the right angle to read their lips, but they weren’t, so all he could tell for certain was their body language, and it was as baffling as ever. There was something, despite her anger, that suggested Saare was _comfortable_ with the Zabrak, familiar if not quite friends. Of course, it wasn’t really a surprise to see he was relaxed. Blakk wasn’t sure when the last time was he’d witnessed Seran tense over something. 

Blakk wondered how well they really knew each other, given how familiar they seemed.  He’d always thought that Saare had hired Seran for … _something_.  He still wasn’t quite sure just what that had all been about, except that the Zabrak had somehow played a part in finding him so Saare didn’t need to waste her time on the wrong planet.  Seran had almost seemed to act as her ambassador … albeit a very laid-back, persistent, and _unwanted_ one.  He’d tried to tell them to get lost. 

He still wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that they hadn’t. 

There was the clomp of boots that told him Seran was ambling back, and … ah, he’d been spotted. Saare had her arms crossed over her chest, but at least she was still trying to glare holes in Seran. Who either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and either was entirely possible with him. “So, Ms. Sith says you stay in medbay until you’re done with that treatment, but there’s no reason we can’t get you over to one of the beds.” 

Blakk glowered at said Sith.  “Oh, she does, does she?  And she thinks she can tell me what to do?  What is this, _her_ medbay or something?”  He crossed his arms defiantly, only to wince at the brush of fabric and skin against his burned arm; the towel made the gesture largely ineffective anyway. 

“Yes, actually, you’re on my ship,” she noted dryly, though there might have been a small flicker of humor in her eyes at the irony. _Seran_ was certainly amused, only making a token effort to muffle his laughter. “And considering you _should_ still be in the kolto tank, you’re getting off rather easy. But if Seran wants to watch you through a long, tedious recovery, by _all_ means, what do _I_ know?” 

Blakk’s eyes’ widened at the revelation of his location, before they narrowed and slid off to glare at a corner.  “I’m _not_ going back into the tank,” he stated mutinously. 

“Course you’re not - I need someone t’ help me keep Saare from killin’ your Rattataki friend when she gets here.” There was something … off … about Seran’s words. He didn’t know what, only that there was an unusual undertone when he mentioned Kaliyo. “And I’ve got some holovids I’ve been meaning to watch that I know Mako isn’t gonna watch with me.” 

The agent would have protested the holovids, except Seran’s mention of Kaliyo stole his attention.  He wondered what the Zabrak’s tone meant, and he was surprised at her return. 

“Kaliyo’s coming?  I thought she’d left.”  He tried to maintain an indifferent attitude, but he couldn’t help a certain level of interest seeping into his voice. 

“Well, you were runnin’ late and Mako fished me outta the cantina, since she’d overheard talk about a downed unidentified ship.” Seran-vin explained, as if it was no big deal he’d actually been at the cantina still. “Girl gets some dangerously accurate hunches sometimes, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have some time to spare to go look. So I did, and _while_ I did, she had a word with your friend -” and there was that tone again. Disdain, perhaps? It certainly wasn’t the blanket amiableness he was used to, “- who wasn’t real helpful, t’ be honest. But long story short, I tracked you down, an’ I suppose she wants to be sure I’m doin’ right by ya.” 

“... Oh …” was the only thing Blakk could think of to say.  He didn’t want to reveal that he hadn’t been intending to meet Seran at the cantina at all, not after what the man had done for him since the crash.  He was just beginning to realize how extraordinarily lucky he was that Seran had _bothered_ to look, let alone had actually found him.  And even though he still felt he hadn’t owed Seran a visit, he had to quelch a small uprising of guilt for blowing him off.  The fact that Kaliyo was coming to check on him was a welcome comfort, however.  At least he knew she didn’t hate him for essentially ditching her.  Still, Seran’s attitude puzzled him - he’d have to speak with Kaliyo about it after she arrived. 

Seran-vin made a little dismissive sound, shrugging, and glanced down at the little Sith at his side, nudging her. After giving him a glare that could combust a small droid, Saare finally spoke up. “I’ll see about finding some of the sleep pants that were brought so you don’t have to be bare, but you _will_ have to be tended to if you’re not going to stay in the tank.” 

“Oh, lucky me.”  Blakk sneered beneath his mask at her put-upon tone.  “Do you get to do that yourself, _Dutchess_ , or do you have some unfortunate sla-”  He caught himself before he could say it, but not soon enough, by the expression on Saare’s face. 

There was a moment of silence, and she arched a pale brow in that way Sith generally did, but she always made it feel like there was something _personally_ wrong with him, the way she did it. Like there was this gaping character flaw and she found it disgusting or something. And then it was all gone, her face smoothed of emotion, with the cool detachment he’d begun to notice she talked to almost everyone else with - Sith, Imperials, allies and enemies alike. There were few exceptions, and most of them in that very room. Her voice was cool and flat. “Do try and keep an eye on him, Seran.” 

Blakk let out a quiet breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  He felt rather like trash at that moment, and tried to shove the feeling aside; it shouldn’t matter to him what Saare thought.  She was just a _Sith_ after all, one he hadn’t ever wanted hanging around in the first place.   

Except none of that conformed to her saving his life, or him trying to bite off the word “slave” before it could slip out.  At a loss, his gaze strayed to Seran in an effort to make sense of the situation, for him to validate Blakk’s actions. 

Seran was giving him an odd look, arms crossed and his head tilted to the side as he watched the door hiss shut behind the exiting Sith. When those bright eyes turned back to him - _gold, always gold_ \- a brow was arched in a more quizzical manner. “So, that’s why you joined Intelligence and not some branch of Diplomacy, huh?” 

Blakk’s gaze returned to the ground.  Yeah, he supposed that meant he’d screwed up.  Again. 

* * *

It took a _lot_ to really get Seran-vin angry. A lot. Mako had been working for and with him for years, and there were some trends she noticed; he really was as easygoing as he appeared for the most part. It wasn’t that he was as big a joker as he pretended to be, but he didn’t see a lot of point in worrying about things he couldn’t do anything about, so he just _didn’t._ She envied that, sometimes. But the big Zabrak _was_ an Iridonian, and there was a fierce warrior under his friendly spacer attitude. She’d seen him do some incredible things, his body the only weapon he really needed. He was smart and _tough,_ and she was really glad he was on her side. Then again, she had the sense to admit it when _she_ messed up. 

That wasn’t the case with a lot of people, and probably why Seran wasn’t going to be taking any calls from Kaliyo short of an emergency. She guessed he was trying to hold his temper for Blakk, but doubted it would last if the Rattataki mercenary pressed him on it. 

“ _So, what else can you tell me about him?_ ”  Speaking of the Rattataki, she was now trying to get from Mako what she’d been unable to get from Seran. 

“He’s a lot cuter unconscious.” She noted offhand, not feeling exactly _generous_ to the person who’d gone and gotten her mentor angry. “Which didn’t last, but still.” 

“ _I meant about his_ condition _, Mako,_ ” Kaliyo said, impatiently.  “ _Or what happened after the crash._ ” 

“As I understand it, he crawled out and made it a respectable distance by the time Seran found him, in the company of a Republic patrol. They’re dead, and as far as I can tell no one managed to report back who did it, or how.” Though, the blaster burnt ground should be a clue. But if they didn’t know who Blakk was, they might not look into it. “And then they hobbled a ways, Saare met them while they were enjoying the local wildlife, and now they’re _here._ ” 

“ _... I get the feeling there’s a couple things you’re not telling me._ ” 

Mako smiled sweetly, but kept her tone mild. “Would I do that? I mean, really. What motivation could I possibly have for withholding information from you?” 

A loud sigh hissed through the comm.  “ _You’re spending way too much time with that Zabrak.  Look, just tell me one thing and then I’ll let you be your normal cryptic self in peace.  How’s Blakk holding up?_ ” 

It was the slicer’s turn to be silent, quietly considering her words. “He’s holding up. I _do_ think it might be best if you did come see him, but I’m not going after you to drag you here. It wouldn’t even help him, anyway …  I mean, yeah, he’ll be okay, but ... Things are changing. We’ll see.” 

“ _‘Things are changing?’  What do you mean?_ ” 

“That’s probably above your level of clearance, if you don’t know.” She noted calmly.   

“ _I see,_ ” Kaliyo responded, flatly.  “ _Well, I’m sure Blakk will be able to inform me of whatever it is you feel so inclined to withhold._ ” 

Mako decided she’d at least give her a hint. “He may, when he finds out.” 

“ _Finds out …?  You mean he doesn’t_ know _?  Does this concern him?_ ” 

“It does. Saare-ha _tried…_ ” she shook her head. That wasn’t her part to play in all this. “Anyway, he’ll know when he’s ready to listen, I guess.” 

“ _Anything I should know?_ ” 

“Nothing immediately, no, but he … may not take it well.” She noted softly. “So we’ll see, right?” 

There was a long moment of silence.  “ _Does this … have anything to do with Korriban?_ ” 

Mako arched a brow. “It … it could. I’m not sure how much, but it could definitely be related.” 

“ _I see.  … Do me a favor?  Make sure someone’s watching over him, all right?_ ” 

That finally earned a smile. Maybe, just maybe, the Rattataki wasn’t _so_ bad. “I think you should know by now he’s not getting left alone for long, even when he tries for it.” 

“ _Good.  He’s stubborn, even for an agent, and I thought_ I _was good at planting my feet.  Doesn’t know what’s good for him sometimes.”_  

“I hear you!” Mako laughed. “Seran can be like that a little, but not so bad anymore. We’ll get through to Blakk eventually.” 

“ _Only if he doesn’t know it’s happening._ ”  Kaliyo chuckled.  “ _Sounds like he’s in good hands … guess I’ll see him when I see him._ ” 

Mako paused, considering it. “You’re still coming here, though?” 

“ _Yeah, should be there in a day or two.  Don’t expect me to stick around if he’s still bedridden, or something.  I_ do _actually have better things to do than listen to him complain._ ”   

The slicer snorted, shaking her head. “Hey, that’s between the two of you, you know? I just think it’s a good idea you pop in a sec.” 

“ _I will.  He owes me, anyway._ ” 

Mako made an amused sound. “I’m sure that will go over well. Call when you’re in the system and I’ll give you a rundown on the situation, okay?” 

“ _Will do,_ ” Kaliyo drawled, and cut the link. 

The slicer shook her head, rolling her eyes. That mercenary was going to have to learn some people skills; her mentor cut people a lot of slack, but there were some things he just didn’t put up with; Kaliyo was going to find out that he wasn’t all smiles and jokes when you finally got him mad. 

* * *

Saare-ha knew, intellectually, that it was just a slip. She could tell, the way Blakk had cut himself off and given her an almost uneasy look, that he hadn’t meant it - not that way. He was Imperial raised, and knowing what she did of his induction to the Empire gave her further reasons for leniency. If anything, the fact that he’d even _thought_ to censor himself should have been counted as _improvement._  

But it just reminded her of the last time they’d spoken, and it _hurt._  

 _Which is what he’d been trying for._  

She knew it. Intellectually, she had it all sorted out. 

It wasn’t helping at the moment, not after the scare he’d given her. She wasn’t sure _when_ she’d become so _personally invested_ in him, but she was in too deep now to back out. The little brat had finally crawled under her skin without even trying, close enough to finally hurt her. 

 _Damn him. I need to meditate._  

There were things she should be doing, but none of it came to mind. Her room wasn’t far, just across the main space, and she let the door close behind her, kneeling at the foot of her bed. 

Meditation … the Jedi had always pushed its importance, even back when she was an initiate. Meditate, clear your mind. _Let it go._ The Sith, on the other hand … she would honestly say they were more inclined to _seethe_ than meditate. Stew in their emotions. 

She was increasingly certain that they were both horribly, horribly wrong. The Force, much like its wielders, consisted of light _and_ dark. To deny one was to dismiss an entire _half_ of it. How could one claim to be a master of a subject they only researched halfway? How could you be centered _on one side?_  

The Jedi, at least, _were_ peaceful. There was something to be said for that. Namely, while she didn’t think they were at their best, they were less dangerous to the rest of the galaxy than the Sith, who considered it _natural_ that they would betray and kill their own kind. The fact that they’d existed this long was astonishing, but it still felt like a house of cards ready to topple over. It couldn’t stay like this. Between the Republic ready to destroy the Empire, and the Sith tearing around without a care for any sort of stability … no, it wasn’t safe. 

It _would_ topple over, the Sith couldn’t maintain rule as they were. Something had to change, and she wasn’t waiting for someone _else_ to come along and make sure she was on the right side of it. She was already taking measures to gain her own strength, build a network of reliable allies and resources. When the time came and whatever disaster happened _did,_ Saare-ha would not be a victim. 

Now, if only she could convince certain others of the urgency. 

* * *

Broken leg already in a stasis cast, and numerous other cuts and gashes dressed, Blakk tried not to hiss, whimper, or jerk away as Seran applied kolto bandaging to his right hand and forearm.  He supposed he hadn’t been in the tank long enough for the healing liquid to do much good.  Either that, or his arm had really been fried on that hot console, for it still looked nasty - red, blistered, and all too sensitive.  Just a light brush had his nerves lighting up in stinging fire.  He couldn’t remember the bounty hunter or Sith prying the fabric of his clothing away from it, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the fabric had fused to his skin.  Eyes squeezed shut, he gripped the mattress of the bed tightly in a shaking fist, as a small, pained sound escaped him. 

“Well, on the _plus_ side, if it’s hurtin’ then it’s not too damaged t’ heal.” Seran-vin pointed out. “It’s when it quits hurting and you can see it _should_ that you have to worry most, after all.” 

“That’s not much … consolation,” Blakk ground out.  At a particularly painful jolt, he lost the battle to keep from jerking his arm away.  “Are you _trying_ to make it hurt?  Might as well rub gravel into it!” he gasped, voice strained. 

“Believe me, if I wanted to make it hurt, you’d know,” he drawled. “I’m real good at pain. Now quit writhin’ around and let me finish. If you’re not gonna be in the tank, it’s gonna hurt worse.” 

“I’m _not_ going back.”  Gritting his teeth, Blakk held his arm as steady as he could.  On the up side, compared to this, bandaging his head and ribs would be _easy_. 

“Then don’t complain about it.” Seran retorted, seeming rather unbothered despite his insistence. One thing, for all the jokes that Seran _could_ make about ‘watching after’ him - and Saare, apparently - he didn’t _coddle_. Which was a relief, honestly … through Blakk wouldn’t have complained about something _a little more gentle_ with his barbequed arm. “Almost done - I’d _be_ done if you’d’ve held still.” 

“I’d’ve held still if you hadn’t been so _rough_ ,” the agent retorted right back. 

“Kid, if I was bein’ rough, _you’d know._ ” He repeated. “You _do_ remember when we first had our lil’ chat, don’tcha?” 

“Our first …?”  It took Blakk a moment, before the memories of their impromptu “duel” flooded through his mind.  He’d been woefully outclassed, outgunned, and soundly beaten.  Glowering, he looked away.  All his training, and he hadn’t even stood a chance in his first real fight.  It still gnawed at him. 

After a moment, he realized that wasn’t something the other man had brought up before. Which was strange, because it was certainly a useful point to have on his side. A glance showed that he was taking the moment to finish tending him, large hands surprisingly deft with the bandages. Then again, a bounty hunter probably had to tend himself and his sparse crew often, since ‘legal’ was a questionable concept for him. The people he ended up around, honestly… 

“Alright, there’s that. Let me take a look at your ribs and your head.” 

“I’m fine.”  Blakk gestured to his head with his free hand, rather sullen.  “See?  No bleeding.  The kolto probably clotted it up.” 

“Never hurts t’ take a look.” He insisted. “If I get it all done _now,_ there’s no fussin’ _later._ We can just sit with movies and junk for a while. Maybe let Saare go blow some things up outside the city, have Mako bring beer …” 

Blakk huffed.  “ _Fine,_ whatever.  … But I’m _not_ watching _“movies”_ with you,” he sneered.  “Where’d you learn that term anyway?  It’s so _archaic._ ” 

“Eh, Mako heard it somewhere. I kinda like it. They were the stuff _before_ holovids, called that ‘cause stuff moved, I guess? So yeah, it’s archaic. So what?” He shrugged, fingers moving Blakk’s hair, apparently, because the agent could feel the slight pull of dried blood. “Ick. Alright, yeah, I’ll just … put somethin’ on, leave it be a while, I guess …” 

“You do that.”  Blakk examined the bandaging encasing his arm and wrapped tightly around his hand.  “I think you’re lying about the movies.  I’ll bet you watched them in person … oh, a couple thousand years ago.  That’d about coincide with your childhood, wouldn’t it?” 

The older Zabrak snorted, amused. “If you’re trying to insult me, brat, telling me that I look this good and lived _that_ long undefeated isn’t doin’ it very well. But I can pretend to be offended, if it makes you feel better?” 

Blakk rolled his eyes.  “Look good?  You’ve got some kind of bony growth sprouting from your skull.  It’s rather obscene.” 

“It’s a horn.” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know a whole hell of a lot about anythin’ that isn’t in the Imperial box, do you, kid?” 

Blakk let out a short bark of dry laughter.  “Of course I know it’s a horn.  It was a bloody _joke_.  And I know everything I need to know, everything that’s _relevant._ ” 

“Sorry, not used to you _tryin’_ to be funny.” Did nothing ever get him angry? Though, given the kind of firepower the Zabrak packed, Blakk supposed that _might_ be a good thing. The man finished with his head, leaving the pressure of a wrapping behind, and stepped back to look at him. “Hm. Well, let me see the ribs real quick, then I might be able to get a sling or somethin’ and we can chill.” 

Blakk shrugged, still irked at the Zabrak’s seemingly permanently laid-back attitude.  “Whatever,” he muttered, wincing and rubbing his right shoulder as the motion sent a painful spasm through it.  He glanced down, eyeing the bruised mess that was his torso.  He’d been trying to breathe slow and easy through the mask, but he still suffered a painful jab in his side whenever he breathed too deeply or twisted abruptly.  The _Phantom_ had done its best to shake him around like a child’s rattle, and it was probably a miracle he’d come out of it as well as he had, and the lizards afterward.  Still clad only in the shorts, it was easy to see the numerous bruises, cuts and scrapes that decorated his arms and legs, including a pretty good gash to his thigh, which had already been bandaged.  It was … sobering, seeing all those injuries and knowing how easily it could have gone worse.  He looked away. 

“Yeah, ruined any chances of any more nice scars - Saare’s not a big fan of leavin’ those on people she’s healing.” Seran steadied him, checking him over with what he suddenly realized were bare hands, the same crimson as parts of his face, which would indicate that the inking was the black. Those were some large tattoos, though. Probably painful, but Blakk couldn’t imagine the Zabrak without them. None on his hands, though there were a lot of tiny scars, likely nicks from blade work or something similar. 

Blakk took the rare opportunity to examine the Zabrak at close range, while the man’s face was turned away from him.  The tattoos hid any lines on his face, making him seem almost ageless.  The horns and gold-red eyes were plenty demonic in appearance, and Blakk assumed they’d be frightening enough if the Zabrak ever actually got angry.  But he never did, and it was almost funny to see those features with such a laid-back personality … to see them now occupied in something as mundane as checking for broken ribs. 

Despite that, though, it was easy to feel small, so close to him.  Even without his height, muscled build, and broad shoulders, the striking contrast of the red and black made him seem larger than life.  He could be someone to easily draw the gaze in a crowded room, if only he’d ditch the bathrobe that made him appear so innocuous. 

“Real good at gettin’ yourself beat up, aren’tcha kid?” His voice this close was so deep it almost rumbled where they touched, but there was something in the tone that struck Blakk differently. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t looking at the Zabrak’s eyes, so there was no distraction in their gleam. “Boy though … you’ve got _spirit._ I like that. Whatever else you lost in that crash, Blakk … you brought the irreplaceable parts with you.” 

Blakk found himself at a loss for words for a moment, and it was a good thing he was wearing the mask to hide how his mouth moved, but failed to form them.  He could only hope it helped to hide most of the light blush, too. 

“I … I just wanted to get out alive,” he said, softly.  It wasn’t like anyone else wouldn’t have done the same. 

“Heh, yeah I could tell! Tell you what, though, you supplement the techniques you learned in Imp school with some things that play on how fierce you are, an’ people are gonna have t’ back up.” For some reason, Seran sounded so _happy_ about that, like he was … was _proud_ of him or something! Which was _ridiculous,_ but then, he was a strange one. “A little hand-to-hand, even - you’re lithe, which is a bonus, but not _little_ like Saare; you’ve got some real muscle to put behind your moves.” 

“... I’ve done some hand-to-hand.  Mostly knife work, though.  I’d rather have something stronger than a bare fist when it comes to combat.”  His voice was still quiet, as he tried to figure out just what was behind the feelings in Seran’s words. 

“Yeah, I hear ya - I mean, what if you’re against a Mandalorian all suited for combat? Or a Gamorrean? Those are _not_ the kind of people you want to punch straight out, trust me. A lot of droids, too … but, sometimes you don’t have a _choice,_ so even if the only choice is a bad one, you need t’ know the best way, right?” Seran seemed to really warm to the topic, strangely, like a familiar favorite or something. “Environmental type training is good, too - learning to use whatever you find to help in a pinch. Unless you’re literally the only person in a bubble in deep space, anywhere can be a fight zone - and if you’re in a bubble in deep space, you’ve got bigger problems, you know?” 

Blakk could only stare at him, and at this strange conversational phenomenon.  Where had this _come_ from?  Blakk wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.  He didn’t normally have conversations, and he certainly didn’t have them with _Seran_.  After a moment, though, he couldn’t help a raspy chuckle.   

“Yeah, I suppose.  … You ever punch a Gamorrean?  You sound like you’ve done it before.”  Heck, Blakk could imagine it, too … and if anyone could deck a pig-man or a Mandalorian, it would be the big Zabrak. 

“Yep, was at a hunting lodge and the pig started hassling Mako.” Seran snorted. “Which, you know, the kid _can_ handle herself. She’s not got all the special trainin’ you’ve got, but she knew how to fight dirty well before she ended up with me. So, I was fine with letting her do it - but he got crude about it, and it looked like he wanted his buddies to come over. Well, you can’t expect a little thing like her to take a _group_ of ‘em with a vibroblade in a public place! She physically doesn’t have the power to do it, ‘s not the way she’s built. So … yeah. Yeah, I did. Twice, too. Broke my hand and _damn_ did it hurt. But I can now say I punched a Gamorrean.” 

The laugh was more genuine this time, though soft, and it might have gone on a bit longer, if Blakk’s ribs and lungs hadn’t conspired to act up.  The agent coughed, reflexively reaching up to tug the mask off so he could properly cough into his hand. 

“Ech, no, you don’t get to take that off unless you _have_ to,” Seran insisted, pulling his hand back. “And yeah, I know how it feels - I’ve been in my share of scuffles, you know? I’ve got a long, long list of people who’d love to carve me up. Some of whom probably could, too. I’ve been a pretty lucky guy.” 

The coughing fit dwindled, leaving Blakk’s throat raw, and his breath rattling in his chest.  “I guess I can believe that,” he rasped, straightening from having doubled over.  He would have tugged his hand free from Seran’s if he felt like he had the energy for it.  After all, what difference would it make if he was able to breath _clean air_ for just a _moment?_ He was going to be sick of the smell of kolto long before this was over.  “... Been in a lot of fights, huh?  Lot of scars.”  He thought of those on Seran’s hands. 

“Pretty much the only days that go by that I’m not in some sort of fight, I’m unconscious because of one.” Seran laughed, and it was hard to tell if he was joking. He _had_ to be, right? “Though I like t’ sleep in space. I get cold and lazy out there … all dark and stuff. If I didn’t like adventuring so much, I might consider being planet bound some day. But yeah … fighting … ‘s in my blood, I guess? Down to genetics, even - Iridonian, but _not_ like the core group, thank you. I’m not bloodthirsty, I just like a good fight. Part of what makes me really respect the older, traditional Mandalorians, actually. I may not agree with every code they’ve got, but I _get_ it. They’ve got their own kind of honor.” 

Blakk would have disagreed about sleeping in space - he never liked space, didn’t like the coldness, the emptiness of it.  But the latter part of Seran’s words took his interest.  He cleared his throat.  “Traditional?  What’s so different about the Mandalorians we’ve _been_ running into?  I thought they all had the same honor code.” 

“Well, see here’s the thing - Mandalorians as they are now, as they’ve _been_ for… gods, hundreds of years at least - are a culture, not a race. They’re … clans. And while yeah, there’s bloodlines, you can join the Mandalorians regardless of _what_ you are,” Seran seemed to really think on it, choosing his words, “They’re not real understood, you know? People see they like to fight - _live_ to fight - and they like to smack labels on that. Bloodthirsty is a big favorite, and I get it, but they’re more like my kin are. In Mando’a culture, conflict is considered necessary for people as individuals and a whole to keep growing, so _yeah_ they seek it out. And for the ones who are still real rooted, it’s not about ‘win’ or ‘lose’ - it’s about the _fight,_ and what you walked away from it with. How you grew from it. And there’s lines they wouldn’t cross, things you couldn’t pay ‘em to do. These days … you see more and more who would sell their souls for credits without a second thought. But that’s not the way they were.” 

“Huh … why haven’t _you_ joined them?”   

Seran considered it a moment, and there was something strangely satisfying about seeing him take something _Blakk_ said so seriously. Funny it would finally happen in a random, casual conversation. “I guess … part of it is more my nature doesn’t really mesh with it. You might’ve heard comments about how independent we can be. And it’s true, for the most part. I’ve got a few people I keep close, but other than that … eh, I’m fine on my own. I wouldn’t know what to do with a big clan. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do well with a boss.” 

Blakk hummed roughly.  He supposed that sounded about right … the Zabrak doing anything other than what he wanted was something that Blakk just couldn’t picture.  Not to mention, he’d probably be the last person to involve himself in a lot of the take-side warfare that the Mandalorians seemed to be doing these days. 

“Just as well … the armor wouldn’t suit you,” the agent commented dryly. 

“Nah, not my kind - I like a bit more maneuverability,” Seran agreed. “Not like I’m the fastest biped ever, anyway, but it’s something I try to work on. Every advantage, right?” 

“Yeah … you don’t get much weight with the grungy old bathrobe look.” 

“Yeah, well it’s not like I’d go on any real missions in that.” Seran shrugged, not seeming to notice Blakk’s sharp look. What the hells was _that_ supposed to mean? But the Zabrak was fixing up his ribs like it was of no consequence. “Alright, that oughta be better.” 

Blakk poked at the bandaging.  It was tight, and he couldn’t breathe as deeply … but it wasn’t bad.  At least it felt like things inside him were more stable now.  He let out a long breath, nodding slowly.  Gods, he didn’t think he’d ever had this much bandaging all at one time. 

“The mix of meds is just standard kolto, I’m afraid, but Saare’s gonna try and mix some things up as soon as she can get her hands on supplies, so you’ll be fixed up soon,” Seran offered, which was somewhat encouraging. Provided he hadn’t ticked her off enough that she’d drag doing it out a while and make him squirm. Sith could be _nasty,_ and she _was_ Sith … even if a strange one. “Lemme get something to stabilize that shoulder, and we should be good.” 

Another nod.  “Alright.  … Um.  … Thanks,” he offered quietly, glancing away.   

“You’re welcome, Blakk.” Not ‘kid’ that time. Odd. Not in a bad way, but he’d come to expect it from him. The bounty hunter rose, stretching a bit before heading off for a few moments. There really wasn’t anything to _do,_ other than lay there and look over the rather bland medbay. It was almost a relief when Seran came back, hair just a little damp and changed into some oddly civilian clothes. Still had a pistol and supply belt, but Blakk would have been worried if he _didn’t,_ it was such a fixed part of the man’s attire. And maybe something Blakk would add to _his_ , because he bet it would have been handy when he’d crashed. 

Not that he planned for that to happen again, but … you never knew. 

And then there was a large, foresty green garment being draped in his line of sight. Some sort of large tunic? It looked warm at least … “Look, I know it’s not quite your size, but it can’t be that great sitting there in a pair of shorts. Let’s get this over you and I can sling up your arm.” 

Usually Blakk would have been choosy about accepting clothes from someone, especially when it was obviously something they’d worn.  But he didn’t have many options at this point; assuming the clothes he was wearing were trash, and everything else he had was destroyed along with the ship … well, he really didn’t have anything at all.  And it was just too cold on board to go without. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up with his good arm to snag the tunic and search for the opening to pull his head through.  It would have worked fine if he’d had the benefit of his other arm … as it was, he got snagged partway through, right arm and shoulder too stiff, sore, and clumsy.  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage anything past getting his head and left arm through the thing at all.  Tugging on it, he swore under his breath. 

“Not used to being beat up, eh? Guess that’s probably a good thing, though…” Seran chuckled, but it almost felt like he was laughing at _himself_ more than Blakk, which was a bizarre thought. Still, the Zabrak leaned in, a hand slipping in to help a bit. “Always settle the bum limb first, ‘cause you can probably twist and shove the rest however you need to.” 

Together, they worked the shirt over his head, until it rested more or less smoothly, with all limbs in their correct places.  It was hard to tell how long the garment was, sitting on the medbay bed, but the arms were definitely longer than Blakk’s, and the neck was wide enough to slide over a shoulder if he wasn’t careful.  But the fabric was comfortable, not rough like he somehow expected … and it was thick and _warm_. 

“There you go.” Seran either expected the fitting, or just wasn’t phased by it, nodding once in seeming approval.  Another few moments saw Blakk’s shoulder fitted with a stasis cast, effectively immobilizing the limb and relaxing the surrounding muscles for reduced pain.  They tingled, though it wasn’t unpleasant.  A sling then kept the rest of his burnt arm from inadvertently smacking into anything.  “Alright, lemme take a look at that tank, see how much you’ve got left, then I should be able to go get some stuff and just _chill._ ” 

Blakk nodded, watching as Seran checked the levels of kolto in the small mobile tank, determined them sufficient for the time being, though he didn’t explicitly say how much was left, and sauntered out to get his “stuff.”  Blakk rolled his eyes, as he settled more comfortably on the bed.  He was pretty sure what “stuff” the bounty hunter was talking about if the constant reference to holovids was any indication, but, _really,_ he’d be fine with a datapad or a technical manual or something.  Holovids were such a needless waste of _time_ , when you could be learning something _useful_ instead!  Grumbling, he squirmed awkwardly under the single, rough blanket, and pulled the discarded towel back around his shoulders, propping himself up as best he could with the pillow. 

Saare-ha sure didn’t spare this place any luxuries. 

After several moments, Blakk thought he detected something … faint and odd, but … enticing? … above the prevalent scent of kolto in his mask, preceding Seran’s return to the room.  He spent a brief moment wondering just how he could smell anything from the surrounding air inside his mask in the first place, before the man entered, balancing a tray of presumed edibles and grumbling about gods-knew-what. He was given a dangerously playful grin as he set it all down on the other bed. “Be right back, couldn’t get this _and_ the player. We’re lucky I thought t’ bring some of this or we’d be having sparser pickings!” 

“... That doesn’t smell like Imperial rations,” the agent commented warily. 

Seran-vin paused, blinking at him. “I said _food,_ kid. That does _not_ include _rations._ ” 

Blakk stared at him.  “Rations _are_ food,” he said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.  “What exactly do you call … ah … all of _that?_ ”  He waved a hand in the general direction of the questionable edibles on the tray, voice full of disdain.  “Because it can’t be sanitary, let alone _nutritious._ ” 

“I call it real food, and not nutrients sucked out and mashed into tasteless, inorganic shapes,” Seran retorted, giving him an odd look that was slowly gaining a sense of dawning horror. “You’ve never … oh _god,_ Blakk, seriously, is that all you eat?!” 

Blakk eyed the Zabrak, and then the food, wondering if this was some kind of joke.  “... Of course it is.  It’s filling, it meets my exact nutritional requirements … and it’s not _tasteless_.  It tastes like …”  He shrugged, searching for a proper descriptive word.  “Ah … _ration packs_.” 

He was treated to a long silence that was somehow very expressive of something akin to horror. Not ‘my blaster’s dead and there’s an angry rancor’ horror, exactly; more along the lines of when someone overlooked critical information on an intel report. Which made _no sense._  

“Alright, the mask comes off. Feedin’ you _now._ ” Seran decided, tone matter-of-fact and not allowing for arguments. 

For once, Blakk couldn’t decide whether that was a _good_ thing or a _bad_ thing.  As much as he wanted to be rid of the mask, the thought of actually _eating_ that … whatever it was, was as horrifying as Seran seemed to think _not_ eating it was.  “I … I don’t know.  I think that stuff’s probably hazardous.  It’s probably not even safe to be in the same _room_ with it.” 

“We’re eatin’ it, stop complaining.” Seran wasn’t exactly _snappy,_ but he was brusque, moving over to shut off the kolto mist and remove the mask. He was remarkably efficient at it, but before he could comment, the mask was lifted and there were quite a lot of distracting smells. 

“Oh gods …”  Blakk raised a hand to his nose and mouth, half in shock and half in a useless attempt to block the scents.  They were … nutty and sweet, salty and spicy all at once, and he really didn’t know what to make of it all.  He stared at the platter, eyeing the strange shapes and steaming mugs in fascinated horror. 

Seran was apparently ignoring his horror, looking at the food thoughtfully. “Might as well start with the popcorn… it’s the blandest, so probably the best way to ease you in … good stuff, too. Starchy, so it’ll be easy.” 

“Pop … _corn?_ ”  Blakk thought he’d heard of it, _maybe_ , but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed to be.  It was tiny, white, with the shape of someone’s insides having exploded, and there was a _lot_ of it.  “... It looks like something you’d feed a _draft animal_.” 

“Well, it’s from a seed, so I guess I get that. But most people wouldn’t bother poppin’ it for their herd, unless there’s a way to do a whole lot at once. And I doubt it.” Seran picked up the bowl, perching on the opposite bed and munching on a couple of them before offering the container. “Still hot, lil’ bit salty. It’s good.” 

Blakk eyed it suspiciously.  He thought about refusing it entirely, but it had been enough to get the Zabrak to remove the breathing mask, and Blakk was somewhat afraid he’d be stuck back in it if he didn’t at least _try_ something.  Besides, Seran had eaten some and he wasn’t dead yet … and Blakk _was_ curious, if only _slightly_ …  After a long moment of deliberation, he reached across the gap between the beds and plucked a single kernel from the bowl.  He hesitated with it at his lips - he could taste remnants of the too-sweet kolto, and something new, something salty - and popped it in his mouth. 

He wasn’t really prepared for the odd texture, or the saltiness, and he coughed, trying not to choke on it.  “Ugh … you … you _eat_ this stuff?” 

“Give it a minute, kid. Trust me on this - I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” Well… he did have a point. Everything the Zabrak outright _said_ to him was true _had_ ended up true. It was when he made you _assume_ things you had valid reason to be wary, because he could stretch the truth to outrageous proportions. 

“I … I guess not,” Blakk mumbled, reluctantly.  Managing to swallow the piece, he reached across for another, finding it going down quite a bit easier, the taste not nearly as shocking.  “Is this … _breakfast_ then?  Or lunch?”  He had no idea when one was _supposed_ to eat “popcorn.” 

“It’s a snack - it’s all snacks, honestly. If I’d realized you’d never had an actual _meal,_ I’d’ve looked into makin’ you something. Dunno what Saare even _keeps,_ and I’m a little wary since it’s either for her or for Khem. I mean, yeah, _she_ has a normal enough appetite, but …” he understood the shudder. Very well. The Dashade was a thing of nightmares. 

“I think she has a locker full of body parts,” Blakk commented, more than half seriously.  He hadn’t yet seen the Dashade _eat_ anything - or anyone - for which he was grateful.  He used to think all the talk about eating people or souls was just … a euphemism for something, but he increasingly doubted that.  He still wasn’t sure how the Dashade went about eating anything, or how one was supposed to consume a soul - or if that was another euphemism - but he didn’t want to find out any time soon.  Reaching back over, he snagged some more popcorn, a handful this time. 

“Fried food?” Seran’s sense of humor was horrible at times, but under the “inappropriately funny” category more often than not. “Or whatever you call electrocuted stuff. I dunno. _Not_ thinking about it. That settling okay?” 

Blakk rolled his eyes at the awful joke, but nodded at the question.  “Sure, I guess.”  He eyed the other food items on the platter, wondering what they were.  The steaming mugs caught his attention. 

“Thirsty?” The Zabrak looked at him for some sort of indication, so he shrugged, which seemed to be enough. “That’s a mug of anoat malted - shoulda just grabbed some blue milk, hadn’t even _thought_ you hadn’t tried _anything …_ Eh, well, it’s good stuff. Nothin’ quite like it. Here … lemme get it to you …” 

The agent reached across for the mug, handling it well enough with his one hand, though he would have preferred two.  After doing his best to scoot up against the headboard, he brought the mug to his lips and took a tiny sip. 

It was hot, but that wasn’t what made his eyes widen.  The _flavor_ , _gods_ …  It was rich and smoky, with a light, sweet undertone to it, and Blakk was absolutely positive he’d _never_ tasted anything as incredible in his entire life.  The intensity of it nearly made him cough again, chest seizing, but he managed to hold it back, just so he wouldn’t lose any of that amazing drink. 

“ _Stars_ ,” he rasped.  “What _is_ this?”   

“ _That_ is a good drink, and the reason why there’s more to nutrition than water and _rations._ ” Seran retorted, looking entirely too smug - but this once Blakk thought it was justified. “Think you might try some other stuff too?” 

“ _Yeah_.”  Then, realizing he’d said it entirely too enthusiastically, Blakk followed it up with a, “I suppose, if I have to,” and hid his expression behind another cautious sip of the steaming beverage. 

There was a touch _more_ smugness now, but the hunter didn’t press it, and Blakk certainly wasn’t going to mention it. He _was_ curious about the rest, though. He only saw two more things, but if they were even _half_ as amazing…. 

“These strips here are just nut slices - candy, and I got some semi-sweet ones. Real good, _real_ crunchy. The green stuff are bofa treats, which is dried fruit with this crispy cereal stuff - grain? - to keep it together with a crust. It’s sweet, with a bit of a chew to it.” 

Blakk eagerly - though he hid it - reached over to try the rest, and found them just as good, if not better than Seran’s description of them.  The textures made them almost more compelling than the flavor, for Imperial rations were neither crunchy nor all that chewy.  This new food was strange, but far from unwelcome. 

“... You eat this stuff all the time?”  Of course Blakk knew that most non-Imperials didn’t consume processed rations on a regular basis … but he’d had no concept of how … well, _good_ … this other kind of food was.  He’d assumed that it was just far better for you to eat something properly nutritious, properly proportioned … and much more efficient, too. 

“More than Mako thinks I should.” Seran snickered. “It’s snack food. But if you mean regular food, then _yes,_ I do. I only eat rations if I literally have _no choice._ That includes hunting something. Nutrients in rations _come_ from real foods, you know - they strip it out and condense it, though, so that’s _all_ you get, with none of the flavor. Good for minimal fuss, _bad_ for enjoyment.” 

“But how do you get all the nutrients you need?  Imperial rations are condensed, so I get everything in a small package.  You must eat a _lot_ just to get the minimum!”  Blakk eyed the Zabrak, wondering why he wasn’t _fat._  

“Well, you can have a lot of calories packed into something tiny, and almost none in something huge. It’s not always relative, which is confusing. Generally, though, you know when you eat something really rich you’ve just loaded up on a _lot_ of calories.” The Zabrak shrugged. “I mean, yeah, you have to learn what you need but … eh, you’re Korun. Close enough to human baseline, really. I wouldn’t worry too much about finding good nutrition. I mean, at least you’re not Arconan, you know? They get addicted to salt, which humans tend to put in _everything._ ” 

Blakk stared at the Zabrak, all the other words completely lost on him as he got hung up on one off-hand comment.  “Wait, what?  I’m … _what?_ ” 

He could see the older man have to stop and rewind, which made him wonder - clearly it wasn’t a planted comment, just … what? Something Seran had taken for granted that Blakk would have _known?_  

Suddenly he had a brief wonder if _maybe_ he should have listened just a little longer to Saare-ha’s ramblings. 

“Korun - person from Haruun Kal, in the mid rim area? Dustig sector?” There was something vaguely sheepish in his expression now. “I … guess she didn’t get that far? Damn, kid, sorry …” 

“I’m not from Haruun Kal,” Blakk said, defensively.  “I’m …”  Well … on second thought, maybe it _was_ possible.  He’d been an orphan, after all, when Keeper found him.  He wasn’t entirely sure which planet the orphanage had been on - couldn’t remember back that far - and though he’d been under the impression it had been a city world like Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa, he supposed it could have been Haruun Kal.  Or even that he’d _originated_ on Haruun Kal and ended up elsewhere … wherever his non-existent parents had left him.  But how would Seran even _know?_  Blakk himself didn’t know!  He eyed the Zabrak, suspicious and uneasy now. 

Seran looked guilty, he decided. Not in the ‘I’m lying’ way, but the much more uneasy ‘I didn’t want to tell you this now’ way, which was a bit more interesting. His voice was softer, careful. “Blakk, you remember that fight you had with Saare? Well, okay, probably before that last one … she mentioned there was a reason she initially had Mako and I go looking for you? How we dredged up some files, and tracked you down on Hutta after a while?” 

“I thought she’d hired you because she couldn’t be bothered with it _herself_.”  Blakk still didn’t know _why_ , because no one would _tell_ him anything.   

“She hired me because as talented as she is, Saare isn’t very good with tech. Not like you and Mako. Hells, _I’m_ better. She can use it, but she can’t make it do things it wasn’t designed to do, hack things for their secrets,” Seran explained seriously. “And I had a lot more freedom to travel, looking up leads. It took … I dunno, four? Five years to track you down? And then nearly three more to find that window of opportunity on Hutta to actually have a word with you. I know it seems like we came outta thin air, kid, but there’s a reason we’re quick to relax around you. There’s … stuff we know. Stuff we _remember,_ that you clearly don’t. An’ I’ve got stacks of intel to prove it.” 

“ _What?_ ”  Blakk shook his head.  Seran was _lying_ … _had_ to be.  Five years?  They’d been looking for him for five _years?_  Eight years to finally reach him?  But … _why?_  That didn’t make any _sense._  He’d been in Intelligence training during that time, a couple years out of the orphanage.  No one would _know_ him to come looking!  He was _seventeen_ for gods’ sake, it wasn’t like he had decades under his belt for people to know him and want to find him! 

There was something gentle in the Zabrak’s eyes that he would have found suspicious, if it didn’t also have something very grim there, too. “I can have Mako bring it all, kid. I don’t want to just ship it around - we’d be in whole lot of trouble, people find out we have it. I’m not sayin’ you’re not worth the risk, but it’s an unnecessary one right now.” 

Blakk stared at him another moment, before scowling and turning away.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snarled, voice subdued.  “And I doubt _you_ do, either.”  Again, all these _allusions_ to _something_ , and no one would tell him _what!_  If he could actually rest any weight on his leg, he’d get up and just leave.  He was _tired_ of this.  He didn’t believe any of it, and he didn’t know why they insisted on following him around and _torturing_ him with it. 

“I know you don’t remember your past.” Seran’s voice was strangely flat, unusually somber. “I know you ‘remember’ basic things, but the more you try to focus on things, the less clear it is, and that it’s not the way your mind really works. Probably bothers you. I know the Force has always been fascinating and horrifying all at once, and Korriban felt familiar even though you don’t ever remember being there before.” 

Blakk gave him a sharp look.  How did he know all that?  Blakk hadn’t told anyone!   

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.  “How the _hell_ do you know about Korriban?  You’ve been fermenting in a Balmorran cantina the entire time I was there-” 

“You don’t remember where you got your scar,” he was _ignoring_ him, but damn it, he was _right._ Damn him. “You like to tell yourself it was because of whatever happened, but you don’t know, only a vague memory of being young and in pain.” 

“It was in the _orphanage_ …”  No, that wasn’t right.  “... A test gone wrong after Keeper found me-” 

“You’re always cold, which is why you wear your uniform even off duty. But I bet wearing the same thing day in day out feels normal.” Blast, why wouldn’t he _stop?_ He was just ticking things off, so _random,_ things he shouldn’t - _couldn’t_ \- know, and he _did!_ “You like watching the sun through the clouds, and feel somewhat relaxed around bigger cities. Which doesn’t explain what’s so homey about jungles, does it? Space is a necessary evil, but deep down, you’re afraid. It’s too big, and too empty. Like it could swallow you whole and you’d never come out.” 

Blakk shook his head, heart beating fast.  “No … stop it.   _Stop it!_ ”  Seran didn’t _know_ anything, he _couldn’t_ … none of this was _true_ , except it _was_.  But it didn’t mean anything!  Even if it was true, it meant _nothing_ , they were all just stupid, pointless quirks; everybody had them.  But _how_ did Seran know?  How _could_ he?  Blakk rarely confessed anything to anyone, except Keeper, and not often.  This was all too personal, too _close_ to … 

To what?   

Blakk hugged the towel tightly around himself.  “ _Shut up_ ,” he snarled.  “You don’t know anything!” 

“You wouldn’t be so angry if I was wrong, kid,” Seran retorted coolly, crossing his arms. “That tank _terrified_ you. Kolto tanks are standard across the galaxy, and it scared the hell out of you on a primal, nearly phobic level. Why is that? Even if I don’t tell you, you’re gonna wonder now. You’ll wonder, and you can either go looking and decide what’s what, or you can stick your head in the sand and ignore that maybe, _just maybe_ , I might be right. Because you’re scared. There’s a whole lotta little things that _don’t add up_ and I’m barely scratching the surface. You know it, and now you know I know it. So what’s it gonna be, kiddo? I can go on like this all day - I’ve got _years_ of information at my disposal.” 

Blakk wanted to argue that _everyone_ had phobias.  He knew a guy who was terrified of _worms_ for gods’ sake; what was so different about kolto tanks?  He just didn’t like being submerged, that was all!  But the Zabrak’s steady, piercing gaze seemed to look right into his _soul_ , and he found he couldn’t look away, and it _terrified_ him.  Whatever happened to the laid-back guy chatting about Mandalorian history? 

“L-leave me alone,” he whispered, suddenly feeling rather small and lost. 

“No.” Seran shook his head, never breaking that intense stare, but there was something a little warmer there. “No, you’ve been alone too long, kiddo. It’s about time someone was there for you.” 

No … Blakk didn’t need this.  He didn’t _want_ it!  “I’m _not_ alone!” he protested, determined to prove the bounty hunter wrong, though his voice sounded as small as he felt.  “I’ve got Keeper … and Watcher Two … and Kaliyo!”  Seran visibly winced when he mentioned the Rattataki, which frustrated Blakk even more.  What the _hell_ did everyone know that he _didn’t??_  

“Look, Blakk, I’ll drop the subject right now if it’s that upsetting.” Seran spoke quietly, that serious note still there. “But it’s not going to make what I said go away, and _I’m_ not going away. I told you, I’m sticking around. End of story.” 

Blakk glowered, before turning away and hunching his one good shoulder, huddling into the towel and tunic.  He felt cold again, and he just wished Seran and Saare and everyone else would _disappear_.  What good was it to tell him these things, but never really _tell him_ anything?  He was so _confused_.  He didn’t know what they wanted from him, what they expected from him.  He didn’t _know_ them, he didn’t _owe_ them anything … so why were they always _there?_  

There was a long moment of silence before Seran sighed and let it go. “Drink your stuff while it’s hot, kid. I’m gonna get the holovids.” 

Blakk raised his gaze to scowl at Seran’s back as he left the room, but otherwise refused to acknowledge him.  After dropping his eyes back to the drink and staring at it for a while, he returned to sipping at it.  It seemed to have lost some of its flavor, and he was no longer inclined to eat anything else, regardless of how good it had tasted.  He proceeded to ignore the Zabrak when he returned. 

Seran didn’t press him for anything else, looking over a few disc covers while a device not much bigger than a datapad whirred to life. Apparently choosing the ‘movie’ - as if he was really interested! Whatever, if it kept him quiet Blakk wouldn’t complain. 

After a moment of watching the Zabrak’s minor indecision crisis, Blakk cleared his throat.  “I want a datapad,” he stated, firmly. 

“And I want a Tarisian ale, so we’re both outta luck,” Seran noted dryly, popping one in. “Besides, you wouldn’t be on a datapad in the tank, and you’re supposed to be in the tank.” 

Blakk could only gape at him, mind almost refusing to process the complete _ridiculousness_ of Seran’s argument.  “But … but I want something to _do!_ ”  Surely, the man couldn’t be _serious?_  

“Lucky you, we have holovids,” Seran pointed out, getting up to dim the lights before turning the player on. “If you behave, I’ll get you a documentary next time.” 

Blakk grit his teeth as Seran settled upon the other bed.  “I’m not a _child_ ,” he ground out.  Holovids were for children or childish people who couldn’t be bothered to do something _constructive_.  “I don’t _want_ a documentary.  I want to _read_ something.” 

“Yeah, well, this isn’t a documentary anyway.” 

Did … he not _hear_ the “read something” part? Or was he just being stubborn? What was worse? 

Blakk felt like strangling the Zabrak.  “Damn it, Seran, I _don’t want to watch a blasted holo!”_  

“I doubt you’ve seen this one, kid.”   

“I don’t _want_ to see it,” he muttered darkly.  Damn, but talking to that Zabrak was like trying to convince a rock not to be a rock!  You could probably stick his head out an airlock, and it would turn out just fine because it was _so damn thick._  

As the holo began to play, Blakk stubbornly crossed his arms as best he could and refused to watch it, fuming at the foot of his bed.  The blasted demonic alien couldn’t have even done him the courtesy of leaving on the lights for him to do anything … not that there was anything he _could_ do.   

 _Damn him_.  This was _so_ unfair. 

He grit his teeth at the sound of the holo - of _course_ Vin hadn’t even bothered to turn it down to a _considerate_ level - and continued his attempt to ignore it.  However, little by little, he found his gaze straying over to it, the colorful, three-dimensional figures playing out their story in the Zabrak’s hands.  It … seemed to be some kind of mystery.  A Jedi mystery maybe … in the past, or maybe some fantasy reality where the Force seemed like some kind of taboo practice …. 

Before he realized it, Blakk’s attention was fully captured by the small device.  He _also_ realized that he couldn’t _see_ it all that well from the other bed, what with the thing just being a personal, portable device.  That irked him further, on top of his irritation of actually _watching_ it. 

After several more minutes, he finally snapped.  “You could at least move it to where I could _see_ it!” 

He had the satisfaction of _startling_ Seran-vin, the man blinking at him a moment before seeming to rethink the situation. Huffing to himself, the Zabrak shifted a bit to change the angle. It looked a little awkward, but they could both see, at least. “Better?” 

Not inclined to be accommodating, Blakk growled.  “Not by much.”  It _could_ work, he supposed … it was just that the display was really too small and too far to make out much of the expressions and details of the characters’ faces.  How Vin had ever thought this would work in the first place with a personal holovid, Blakk had no idea. 

And the Zabrak was _watching him._ Like he was trying to figure something out, though there was no telling _what._ Blakk wasn’t some sort of puzzle for him to put together! 

Before the agent could snap at him, Seran set it nicely in his range and jumped himself up. “Be right back, kid!” 

Startled, Blakk jerked slightly as the weight of the unit came to rest on his legs, and watched as the Zabrak left.  Grumbling, he pulled it closer.  He had no idea what Vin thought he was doing, but if he wanted to miss the holo, Blakk didn’t care. 

It was hard to tell how much of this was true, and how much of it was lore or just … made up … but it was _all_ fascinating. If he hadn’t been told it was a vid, and there weren’t some patently ridiculous moments that could _only_ be scripted, he’d have been suspicious that it was actually the promised documentary. Still … he was really starting to get into it, working out the cultures and a bit of the plot when the lights came on, ruining the immediate view. 

Blakk blinked.  “Hey, do you _mind?_ ” he snarled.  Who in the galaxy would be so _inconsiderate_ …. 

“It’s worth it, just wait.” He wasn’t sure _what_ the man was wheeling in, only that it was probably Saare-ha’s and probably not supposed to be brought here. Not his fault, however, so he just watched - protesting, of course, when the holo was _paused_ without so much as a “do you mind?” - and there was a moment of fiddling with the player and the larger device. 

And then the vid was back, larger and in glorious, breath-taking detail. Seran was saying … something about holocomms and it really couldn’t be that important, could it? This was _amazing._  

“Wow …”  He hadn’t realized he’d said it until it was out.  He wished he could move the bed even closer, or at least pile up enough pillows to let him watch it comfortably from closer than the headboard.  Sadly, he had only one. 

“Yeah, not too shabby for a patch job.” Seran-vin grinned, and this once he probably had a right to. He even managed to wheel it a little bit closer before he climbed back on the other bed, picking up his mug and getting one of the chewy fruit things to munch on while he watched. “Best part is there’s actually a series after this. Kinda … along the same lines? You don’t really _have_ to watch this one to get those, though …” 

“There’s a series?  Really?”  Blakk coughed, belatedly realizing there was far too much interest in his tone.  He really needed to watch himself.  In an effort to cover up the slip, he grabbed his pillow and scooted awkwardly toward the foot of the bed, before balling up the cushion and trying to arrange it in a way to prop himself up enough to see the vid without straining. 

Seran either didn’t notice, or thought it was a perfectly acceptable response. “Yeah, there is. Pretty good, too - old, but some of the old ones have the best stories, honestly. Back when people were more interested in the story than the shiny, if you know what I mean?” 

Blakk nodded slowly.  He liked the story alright, but he personally didn’t see anything wrong with the “shiny” either.  From his point of view, this holo was plenty shiny, so he wasn’t quite sure how much more shiny things were supposed to get.  Curling up somewhat to lay across the short end of the bed for a better view, he finally got into a decent position, though it was a little awkward with his injured leg and arm.  At least his ribs didn’t pinch too much. 

The agent’s eyes remained glued to the display throughout the holo.  He would never have admitted that this was the first one he’d ever seen, though maybe it was obvious.  He insisted that they follow it up with the series, and was able to follow it well enough … until he started to crash about halfway through the first episode.  Blakk didn’t intend for it to happen, but before he knew it, he was skipping parts of the holo as he faded in and out.  He rearranged the pillow to prop his head on to keep from jerking his neck, but that turned out to be the straw that did it.  Moments later, he was out cold, visions of Jedi and mysterious hooded figures following him down into blackness.

* * *

_to be continued ..._


	6. Chapter 6

Seran took his time settling Blakk, turning the volume down a little so he could take advantage of the moment to really _look_ at the agent. The kid didn’t realize how young he was. On a lot of worlds, seventeen standard wasn’t even a legal adult for humans. Not that anyone would argue with an Imperial Agent - and a Cipher no less - but that didn’t make it right. He was all for kids going out and doing their thing, but not while they were too young to have a clue about what they were doing. And the Imps had sheltered Blakk, to their own advantage. He wouldn’t have been surprised if there was actual conditioning to make the kid ‘resist’ revelations of his past, but Mako hadn’t seen signs of it.

He had a special level of anger for the people who did this to him. Keeper … Seran wasn’t sure quite where the man fell. He wasn’t the root of the issue, but he did take advantage of - and worsen - the situation, from all the reports he’d seen. The _Sith_ were the major issue, but that wasn’t too unusual. No organization so wild and vicious would survive, especially built on a foundation of betrayal and distrust. It just didn’t _work_ that way. Seran fully agreed with Saare that they were going to destroy themselves, and if they could find a way for the rest of them not to be collateral, he was _all for it_. 

Meh, he hated politics. Give everybody a blaster, teach them to use it, and make them fight for their own beliefs. People suddenly got a lot more interested in talking things over when they had _their_ life on the line. Maybe the Mando’a weren’t the only ones who’d lost a lot of culture and moral values to the wars.

Sighing heavily, he stretched and rolled his shoulders. He needed to see about food and clothes and any other needed supplies. The Dashade would be in from scouting, and they’d worked out some basic communication to get jobs done, so he’d know where they stood. A word with Mako and he’d be fully up to date on external affairs, which would be useful. He needed a word with that Rattataki, when she bothered to show.

Kaliyo didn’t show up anytime soon, and although it was irritating, it was also just as well.  Blakk was completely out for over three full standard days.  Apparently, the dunk in the tank - and likely a good amount of the kid’s own raw determination - had been enough to keep him going for the few hours he was awake.  After that, his body had simply called it quits, shutting down so it could properly begin to heal.  The kolto mask was affixed back in place, and an IV implanted in his arm and laced with painkillers to help him stay under as long as his body needed.  

They informed Keeper of the crash and possible sabotage to the ship, letting him know his Cipher Agent was alive and resting.  It had to be done through Kaliyo, to Seran’s annoyance, to avoid unnecessary questions and an extraction team coming to get Blakk, but at least it appeared that the agent was safely not going anywhere, for the time being.

Seran really wondered about the ‘Intelligence’ operatives in charge, though; not that he didn’t think Mako was extremely talented, it was obvious she was and probably would have been even without the implant in her head, but _that many_ people _dedicated_ to handling sensitive matters regarding information and security ought to have had at least a vague idea about what was _really_ going on.

Maybe someday Blakk would make Keeper and they could put Saare on the Dark Council and start running things better. Or just defect to the Republic and screw over the Empire. That might work. They had good stuff over there. And there were plenty of upsides to being known as a revolutionary …

Well, Seran needed to see the kid back on his feet, and try to get him and Saare to be civil long enough to be pretty sure they weren’t going to kill each other. And that Rattataki … he didn’t like her. Didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t trust her. At least the Dashade had his own code of honor, odd as it was. More like comparing the old and new Mando’a.

That was disturbing. He seriously needed air. Blakk would be fine to rest a while.

* * *

It was a slow, lazy crawl back to consciousness by the time Blakk’s body was ready to let him wake up.  He opened his eyes, groggy, mind fuzzy … but feeling not too bad despite that, though an odd weakness permeated his entire body.  He wouldn’t say he was _entirely_ pain-free, but it was muted, somewhere in the back of his mind, and he was relaxed.  Idly, he wondered if he’d been drugged with something, and found that he didn’t much care if he had.

Blinking slowly, he found that he was lying on his side, the blanket pulled up to his chin and towel draped across as if it was a second blanket.  He was rather grateful for that - it was hard to feel like he was ever properly warm sometimes.  

After staring for several moments at nothing as his brain caught up with being awake, Blakk lifted his gaze to the open doorway.  He could see into the main common area, and, he suddenly realized, directly across into the open door of Saare-ha’s quarters.  Not really expecting her to be there, he was surprised to find her kneeling at the foot of her bed … meditating, perhaps?  Was that something she _did?_  Did Sith meditate?  It wasn’t something he’d ever seen her do before, so he questioned his assessment of the situation.  She usually … well, fumed in anger, really, enough that he could almost _feel_ it.

This was much less disturbing.  At least it meant she wasn’t angry … _probably_. Her features were mostly relaxed, a certain level of calm despite the draw of pale brows that suggested unease. Seeing her, mostly calm, made her look … younger. Less world-weary than she always seemed with her eyes open. He wondered, briefly, how old she _really_ was. With the white hair, it was hard to say, but … she did look young yet. Older than him, even if only aged by experiences.

Not for the first time, he wondered if what she’d said about her past - what little of it - was true.  Had she really been a Jedi?  An Initiate, whatever.  He’d always found it hard to picture her as one, with the serene face and nondescript, plain brown robes like the ones in the holovid.  Yet … with the calmness she wore now, he could almost imagine it.  Had she possessed normal eyes and hair as well?  Brown locks, maybe, and brown eyes … or blue …  And a matching twin brother, he supposed, if her stories were true, instead of that hulking monstrosity of a Dashade.  He wondered if she knew the irony of a Jedi soul-bound to a twin growing up to be a Sith equally bound by some other nefarious witchcraft to a soul-eating demon.  What would she do if she ever encountered her brother?  Would he recognize her?  Would he fail to see her behind her Sith mask and horrific companion?  Would they try to kill each other?

Blakk found himself hoping that they might never meet.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to witness the outcome of it.

* * *

The one thing Saare-ha could count on, if she meditated long enough, was that she would be able to separate _emotion-driven_ belief from _fact-based_ belief. The ability to even temporarily remove her bias was a blessing, leaving her clear headed and calm once more. It wouldn’t necessarily last, but it was worth the time spent. In the quiet of her own mind, sometimes things became more clear, even if only the ability to be more sure of the direction she needed to look next for answers.

She still had a mission to carry out on Balmorra, but Zash wasn’t expecting word back just yet anyway. For now, she had time to see if she could at least draw even with Blakk. She didn’t want to leave angry, not when she had before and he’d very nearly _died_ before she had the chance to -

But no. No, he _didn’t_ die. Seran came through again, amazingly, as he had for her before. It was a relief she didn’t have words for to have him on her side. He was exasperating, sometimes bordering on infuriating, but at the same time she was extremely grateful for him.

That, at least, was common ground she had with Blakk.

Speaking of Blakk … the sudden sense of being watched had her glancing up and across the common area, only to find a pair of bright blue eyes peering out at her from a pile of blankets in the medbay.  Kolto mask long since removed, he stared at her for a moment, before blinking, apparently startled to find her looking back.  His eyes flickered to other corners of the room, perhaps looking for some escape, before they hesitantly drew back to hers, having found none.

Reluctantly, she felt her lips twitch towards a smile, amused. How long was he watching? And where did he think he could even _go?_ They were, for all he knew, in space. Unless Seran had thought to clarify, and she seriously doubted it. The man had many good points, but clearing things up wasn’t one of his more polished talents.

Poured a mean drink, as it turned out, though. But she was never playing cards with him again.

Blakk apparently wasn’t quite sure what to do with her half-smile either; he’d turned away, onto his back, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.  He probably would have completely rolled over to avoid her, if it weren’t for most of his injuries being on the right side.  As it was, he studied the ceiling for a moment, before beginning to lever himself slowly up.

There weren’t many options he _had_ , truthfully, and as amusing as it would be to see what he did, letting him stew was not only immature, it would have the opposite effect of what she _wanted_. Rising and smoothing her robe, she left her room and headed for the medbay. “It’s good to see you’re awake again. You’ve been out a while.”

The young agent froze in the act of sitting up against the headboard, watching her cautiously.  No doubt he expected something a little more … _abrasive_ , perhaps, and didn’t really know how to react to this.  

“... How long was I out?” he finally replied, after a moment.  His words were soft, and not quite as precise as usual, the painkillers slowing him down and taking the edge from his speech.  He continued to sit up, single usable arm shaking slightly, the blanket spilling from his shoulders to reveal Seran’s overly large, green shirt and Blakk’s bound arm.

There was something almost endearing about the sight, and she assumed it was because of how swallowed up he was in the dark green fabric. ‘Cute’ wasn’t the right word, either. But it was something that reminded her of years ago ….

Now was hardly the time for that, though. “A few days. Your body needed the rest, and could probably use a little more.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he nodded, dropping his gaze.  He pulled the blanket back up to arrange it awkwardly around his shoulders so it would stay, drawing his legs up, as well.  A wince stopped the motion of his right leg, however, and he slowly relaxed that limb back to the mattress.

“All things considered, you’re healing well.” She noted quietly, pausing to lean in the doorway instead of continuing to the closer position on the other bed. “Not as quickly as you would have in the tank, certainly, but you’ll have no lingering ill effect from your injuries.”

“Ah.  … Good,” he said, shrugging a little with his good shoulder.  “I’ll be back to work soon and can notify Keeper of my … predicament.”  His voice was somewhat subdued, without the full amount of arrogance he normally employed, and cracked a little from disuse.  He seemed … somewhat uncomfortable, frowning slightly and picking at the blanket threads, while avoiding her gaze.

“I believe Kaliyo handled that, so no one would come looking and asking questions before you were ready, and you could rest.” Saare-ha moved from the doorway to the little cooler in the room, getting a bottle of water out and cracking the seal on it as she returned to Blakk. “Here, have a little. I imagine you’re parched.”

The agent raised a brow in surprise, but took the bottle, giving her an odd look.  After examining the water - had he thought it was poisoned? - he took a sip, then proceeded to guzzle it. She arched a brow, wary. “Blakk, you’ve been out for days. I’d take it slow before you upset your stomach.”

She’d made that mistake before, and while she understood the temptation, he wasn’t healed enough to cope with being ill right now.

Blakk scowled, briefly pulling the bottle from his lips long enough to say, “I can handle a little _water_.  I’m _thirsty_ ,” before returning to downing it.  He shuddered at its chill.

“I hope your stomach agrees.” She mused neutrally. Maybe she should have given him ice chips … but there was no protecting Blakk from _himself_.

“Of course it agrees,” he replied, rather acidly, before making a face.  Whether it was at the chill or his stomach actually _not_ agreeing, it was hard to tell.  Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, he did his best to curl up against the headboard.

Saare-ha frowned and rose, heading back over to the storage units and pulling out a thermal blanket. Shaking it out a moment, she moved over and draped the fabric over the huddled agent. “Try not to stress your injuries. Do you need anything?”

Gaze landing on her in surprise for the second time, Blakk’s fingers appeared at the edge of the blanket, half covered by the sleeve of Seran’s shirt, and tugged the fabric incrementally closer.

“Um.  … No, not really, I guess.”  He dropped his eyes again, before saying, softly, “Thanks.”

She smiled a bit at the quiet thanks, inclining her head slightly. “You’re welcome.”

She left it at that, however. He was obviously rattled, and probably not feeling well either. If nothing else, he had to be tired. “I’ll tell Seran you’re awake. He’s been worried.”

“Worried?”  His attention was directed back to her.  “ _Seran?_  About what?”

“About _you_.” She arched a brow, shaking her head. “I suppose you were out by then. But yes, he’s worried, and will probably come in here and be horribly cheerful now that you’re awake. Which is better than wondering if he’s actually going to ask Khem to spar with him.”

Blakk blinked slowly at her, as if wondering just which bit of information he was supposed to process first.  Apparently, he decided on the last bit, as he chuckled softly.  “I’d pay to see that.  Do you think he’d do it if I went back to sleep?  You could record it for me.”

“I’d really rather not. Khem is an even worse patient than you are, and Mako would be … upset.” She was glad to see his dry humor returning, however. “It’s an interesting thought, but until I know who would win and at what point they’d _stop_ , I’ll pass.”

“Hm.  I suppose it would get messy if Khem decided to eat Seran’s brains.  On the upside, you wouldn’t have to worry about Khem dying.  I’m fairly certain he’s already undead.”  Oh, more dry humor.  Lovely.  And about her favorite subject, too.

“I’m not sure Khem has enough jaw power to break Seran’s skull, but I’ll keep it in mind,” she replied, smirking faintly. “If nothing else, I’m sure between you and Mako, you could find more brains. Provided she wasn’t devising my painful downfall in the meantime.”

“I’m sure there are a few Cthons out there who don’t need them.”  He rested his head against the headboard.  “And you’ll be fine if you just bribe Mako with the latest tech gadget.  She’ll be your new best friend.”  He returned her smirk with a tired one of his own.

“If there are, I’m sure you’ll find them and leave them in my mail,” she muttered, lip curling a bit in genuine distaste. “I’d rather you not, however. Surely there are other things you can use to get Khem to tolerate you.”

“None that are nearly as fun as that.”  His smirk grew, turning almost impish as he no doubt recalled the time he _had_ left just such a thing in her mail.  “I’ll personalize it for you next time.”

“Blakk, really, you’re terribly morbid,” Saare informed him. “I’m not sure why you and Khem _don’t_ get along _better_ , your less than tactful comments and his general disillusionment with modern society aside.”

The agent shuddered.  “You’re kidding, right?  No, I wouldn’t want to take him away from you.  That walking mountain of doom is _all_ yours.”

“But you’d make such a wonderfully violent team.” She smirked, amused. Khem might actually like that better, in some ways. If they could manage to stand each other, and Blakk learned the language.

“I don’t _do_ teamwork.  Besides, Khem has no style.  He’d ruin my image.”

The Sith couldn’t help it - she laughed. “You are such a diva, Blakk.”

He gave her an affronted look.  “I am _not_.  I’m just … upholding the reputation of Imperial Intelligence.  And Imperial Intelligence does not go _cavorting_ around with horrifying barbaric monsters like Khem!”

“Blakk, you would find mismatched socks horrifying,” she drawled. “And you don’t know enough about Khem Val to really be in a position to judge.”

He shrugged his good shoulder.  “What’s there to know?  He’s big, he’s ugly, he looks like a walking corpse that’s been trampled on by a hoard of rancors … and he has a personality and voice to match!  If he wasn’t practically _permaglued to your hip_ , I wouldn’t be caught dead on the same _planet_ with him.”  For all Saare knew, that last statement was literal, given what Blakk knew about the Dashade’s penchant for consuming souls.

“Blakk, you barely understand the language he speaks, and looks are determined by one’s perspective. For all we know, another Dashade would find him appealing.” She shrugged as well. “I’m not saying there aren’t quite a lot of vile things about him, but I question the reasons you pick for writing him off as a senseless monster.”

Another shrug.  “Well, as long as we agree he’s quite vile, I’m sure we can agree to disagree on the exact _reasons_.  I’m perfectly okay with relegating him to _your_ little corner of the universe, as long as he doesn’t cross into _mine_.”

She snorted, amused, but decided to save that argument for another day. Or make Seran do it. He seemed to have just as easy a time bulldozing into Blakk’s life as he did hers. “I think that’s a decent enough idea.”

“Good, it’s settled.”  He studied her face a brief moment, before transferring his gaze to the med display on the wall beside the bed, idly observing its readouts.  A brief expression crossed his face, as if he was unsure of something, before it vanished, leaving her wondering at the source.

“I suppose I really should at least comm Seran,” she mused, wondering what he saw when he looked at her, what he’d already decided about her, without truly knowing. But perhaps it was better she didn’t know.

“If you want,” he replied, without commitment and yet another shrug.

“I’ll leave you to rest while you can, then.” She nodded to him and began to slip away. Best tell the Zabrak in person, if she could.

“Saare, w-wait!”  The words were blurted unexpectedly, causing her to turn at the doorway, an eyebrow raised.  Blakk seemed as surprised at the outburst as she was, for he faltered a moment, lapsing into silence.  “... I-I …”  He looked away, dropping his gaze to the mattress.  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, softly.

She could have asked what for, maybe _should_ have, but she could tell that had been hard for him to get out. He’d obviously been thinking it a while - it had to have been bothering him, to finally just _burst_ out, almost without permission - but he’d gone through with it. He’d _said it_. And that meant more progress than she’d expected just yet.

But the question was, what to say? Did she forgive him? She knew why he’d said it - whichever _it_ he was apologizing for, how it was his nature to get defensive and hostile when he was uncomfortable. But she had feelings too, and he’d cut her more than he knew. Was there a middle ground? What was it?

The Sith had taught her many things. How to handle apologies with grace and form friendships and alliances was not in the program.

_Seran would say awkward honesty is better than awkward silence._

Turning completely to face him, she chose her words with care. “I don’t know which event you speak of, and will not make you say. But … if you truly are sorry … I accept. I’ll endeavor to move past it as well.”

He gazed at her, expression open and regretful … vulnerable … for just a moment, before he withdrew again, dropping his eyes back to the blankets.  He’d been hoping for something, it seemed, and the formality of her words was evidently not it.  But he nodded, silently.

“I … right.”  The words were quiet, subdued.  His eyes searched the weave of the blankets, mouth working slightly, before finally promising, simply, “I’ll do better.”  

Saare-ha wet her lips, and decided to take a gamble. See how genuine Blakk truly was. Maybe… maybe it would help. “I want to trust you, Blakk. It doesn’t … that doesn’t come easily to me, particularly when yes, you _have_ hurt me. I want to believe you. I want to trust you. I want to _try_. Just … give me time, to prove to myself that it’s truly safe to do so.”

She flushed a bit, uncomfortable and uncertain after making such a confession. It left her feeling unbalanced and vulnerable as well, and if it didn’t pay off, she’d hit that damn Zabrak on principle.

The young agent had winced at her words, the confirmation of him having cut her, and now sat there, toying with an edge of the blankets.  He nodded, making no move to pounce on her vulnerability and cut her further; the idea not even seeming to occur to him.  In that moment, Blakk was as genuine as he knew how to be.

“Right.  I understand.”  His voice had quieted, coming out hoarse.  He cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry.”

She offered him a small, tentative smile. “I think, perhaps, we both have much to learn on that front. But we can try, right? It can’t be that hard.”

Shouldn’t be, at least. They’d _try_.

Blakk nodded once more, still solemnly staring at the blanket.  A quick flick of his eyes upward, however, followed by a double-take, had him seeing her smile … which he echoed, faintly, face relaxing some as a small measure of relief came to him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, softly.

She felt her smile spread wider at his reaction, more genuine. Maybe they really would work it out.

* * *

 

_to be continued ..._


	7. Epilogue

A couple days later saw Kaliyo finally visiting.  There was a sheepish apology from Blakk, and a decently long conversation, but by the end of it, the agent’s spirits had improved considerably, and he was back to his sarcastic, mildly antagonistic self, though with more exasperation than any real bite.  If Kaliyo and Seran had words before or after, they took care to hide it from Blakk, and he didn’t seem to notice much in their behavior.

At two weeks, which didn’t come _nearly_ soon enough according to Blakk, the agent’s numerous attempts at getting around on his own had _finally_ annoyed Saare into lifting his bedrest restrictions and setting into motion plans to continue their respective missions on Balmorra.  And so it was that Blakk had come to be sitting on the ship’s ramp, impatiently tapping a foot as he waited for the others to get moving.

He’d been given a new set of clothing and armor - even a new rifle - to replace the ones he’d lost in the crash.  The attire was, overall, a steely gray in color with forest green accents, a color he found he was quite partial to, though he’d never admit it had anything to do with the oversized shirt of the same color Seran had lent him.  Speaking of said shirt, Blakk had conveniently forgotten to return it.  If Seran wanted it, he could find it himself.  Blakk was done doing any favors for the Zabrak, after having been stuck watching most of the holos the man owned.

He still had one more season of the Jedi mysteries he really should finish …

Aside from that, he needed to figure out just _where_ he was going to stay.  He sure as heck wasn’t setting up camp in the medbay, now that Saare finally let him out.  And he wasn’t staying in the crew quarters, either, not with how dark and gloomy and claustrophobic it was, and with how Khem tended to _lurk_ in there.  The creature didn’t even _sleep_ , so Blakk had no idea what he was doing there, and it was _creepy._  No, Blakk was moving _out_ … just as soon as he could figure out _where -_ ideally someplace that wasn’t lit by the unholy red light Saare seemed to have installed all over the place.

“Hey kid!” And there was that blasted Zabrak, who was ignoring Blakk’s attempts to ignore _him_. “Got some stuff for you.”

“If I pass, will you leave me alone?” Blakk asked, though he found it hard to inject any venom into his voice.  He debated rising, but decided that there was no way the Zabrak deserved that honor, and Blakk’s leg still grouched at him, anyway.  He’d have some prominent limping he’d need to overcome in the near future.

“You ought t’ know the answer to _that,_ kid.” Seran was grinning, blast him, which meant he wasn’t likely to be deterred. “Anyway, here - orders from she-who-fries-lizards, accompanied by a hefty credit chip; and a little somethin’ from me an’ Mako before we ship out.”

Blakk stared, reaching up to take the items, though it was more automatic than anything.  “Credits …?  But I don’t need … I don’t need any of this!”  His hands reversed direction and tried to shove the items back into Seran’s possession.

“Actually, considering your ship - and everything on it - got trashed, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to some spare credits, kid,” Seran pointed out mildly, pushing them back into his hands. “Anyway, you’re apparently not allowed to buy equipment with it anyway, so go buy some holos and junk food or something!”

Blakk’s stare slowly morphed into a distinctly unimpressed look.  “According to _who?_  How, exactly, is not buying _equipment_ going to help everything that ‘got trashed’?”

“According to Saare-ha, you can buy your necessities with your pay, kiddo - Keeper’s not gonna let you run wild with no gear,” Seran pointed out reasonably. “Punishing you may be on his mind, and it may not, but _that_ would punish you _both._ So just buy somethin’ fun.”

The agent scowled.  “I don’t _need_ anything _fun._ ”  He shoved the credits back again.  “Take it back, if I can’t buy any gear upgrades, I don’t want it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you’re gonna be bored as hell out here, kid - at least buy yourself some vids. Then you have an excuse to ignore when she’s in a mood.” He grinned cheekily, stepping back and refusing to take them. “Balmorra is a boring planet, _trust_ me. You’re gonna want _something_ t’ do here. Especially since you’re not gonna just run around on that leg.”

Blakk narrowed his eyes at the infuriating Zabrak.  “I can run around on this leg just _fine._ ”  He eyed the hunter before finally huffing and glancing away.  “ _Fine._  It’s not like Saare will know whether I use it for equipment or not, anyway.”  He had no intention of doing _anything_ Saare told him.

“You’d be surprised.” He snickered, crossing his arms. “But really, it’s not so bad t’ do somethin’ fun now and again. Might even find a decent hobby some day.”

“I kill things for a hobby, and I laugh while I’m doing it,” Blakk snarled.  “That’s good enough for me.”

“Hey now, ease up kid - I’m on your side.” Seran-vin shook his head, seemingly somewhat amused still. “Well, anyway, _I_ have t’ haul jets, and it’s between you and Saare now. But before I go … the stuff in this lockbox? All of it is yours.”

For a moment, Blakk was torn between the announcement that Seran was leaving, and the gift of the lockbox.  “Oh … uh … what?”  He’d stood, somehow, when he wasn’t paying attention, and now rested only slightly precariously on the ramp, most of his weight centered over his left leg.  Slowly, his eyes drifted down from the Zabrak to the offered box.

Seran sighed, and there was that more serious side - it called for instant attention when the man bothered with it, rarely as he seemed to. “I told you I had files, Blakk. I know, you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine, that’s your business. But you don’t need me to read these to you, and you have the skill and clearance to determine what’s real and what’s not. All those years of intel I said I had … it’s all in here.”

The hand that accepted the box had to grip it tightly to avoid a minor tremor.  “... I-It’s nothing,” Blakk protested, weakly.  “It doesn’t mean anything, I don’t know why you think I should care.”  Even to him, the words sounded hollow.  He willed Seran to take the box back.

“Then you don’t need to worry.” Those intent eyes locked on him. “Just keep it locked. We splurged on a biometric, so you should be fine. But you deserve to have it, just in case one day you want to know.”

A biometric?  But how had they gotten it keyed to _him?_   _When_ had they done it?  

“But I …”   _I don’t want to know._  The words hovered on his lips, ready to fall … but he couldn’t make them.  It was ridiculous.  Gods, everything they’d said, Saren and Saare, everything they’d hinted at … it was all _absurd_.  Omega Blakk was an Imperial Operative … a Cipher Agent, the most elite of his class.  He was handpicked from some planetary orphanage by Keeper, trained in all the intricacies of intelligence work, and graduated at the top of his class.  There was _nothing_ in the box that could be true, nothing that he didn’t already know … and anything that fell before Keeper was _meaningless_.  That included the orphanage, anyone he’d known there, and the unknown parents who’d left him there.  

Blakk _knew_ everything that he was.  There was nothing in the box.  There couldn’t be.

Then what would be the harm in keeping it?  It was an empty box.

Somehow, his hand didn’t shove the thing back into Seran’s face like it should have.

“... You’re _insane_ ,” he muttered, acidly, tucking it away.

“Happily so.” The Zabrak smirked. “Anyway, doesn’t hurt to pass that along to ya. You’re havin’ Saare drop you on Dromund Kaas after you two finish here, I guess?”

“... Yeah,” Blakk grumbled.  “I suppose.”  He would need to report in to Keeper - no doubt the man would have many things to say to him, most of which were likely to be unpleasant, given the status of his prototype ship.  “... Why?”

“Just wanted a timetable - you didn’t have time to do any looking into things, since you’ve been recouping, but Mako is compiling some satellite shots, comm records and stuff you could probably dig up if you took the time. Might help you with the big shot.” If nothing else, Blakk could count on the hunter’s forethought on how to avoid trouble. It might be useful indeed to have concrete proof the agent wasn’t all to blame for it … and Mako seemed to know what she was doing.

“Oh …”  Blakk was surprised by the offer.  “Uh … yeah.  … Thanks.”  He shook his head, belatedly waving away his own expression of gratitude, frowning as he struggled to remember just what had happened in the moments of the crash.  The details were still hazy.  “The ship, it wouldn’t … it wouldn’t steer …”  He didn’t know if that vague piece of information would help, but it was better than nothing.  Maybe Mako could do something with it.

“We strongly suspect sabotage - we took a little trip to see, before making sure everything important had been fully destroyed or recovered by us. If there’s anything salvageable, we’ll make sure you get it.” It was a pleasant surprise to get the help. “No promises, but she’s doing what she can.”

Again, Blakk stared at him.  “Right …”  He glanced away, forcing himself to focus on the facts, and not on how … _helpful_ Seran was being.  “Sabotage?  By _who?_  The ship was a prototype; no one knew about it, and no one had access to it before I left.  The Balmorrans couldn’t have known I was coming.”

“Well, no, but you _did_ have a stop over between Dromund Kaas and Balmorra, didn’t you?”

 _Korriban …_ for a moment, he remembered that horrible encounter with Jadus’ insane daughter, and it was all he could do not to shudder. Would she have …?

Actually, it made a morbid kind of sense.  Zhorrid had instructed him to find her father’s real killers, but if she somehow blamed Blakk for her father’s death - whether he was the real killer in her mind or not - it was entirely possible she would have the will and the means to sabotage his ship.  If it killed him, she would have her petty, twisted form of sick revenge; if not, Blakk would still be bound to carry out her orders.  And even if her thoughts didn’t go that deep, if all she wanted was to _play_ with him … then Blakk was more than willing to believe that, too, given how she’d given him a life-or-death test when she’d already known full well what she called him to Korriban for in the first place.

Zhorrid was dangerously unstable.  Blakk felt like nothing more than a sand-mouse caught in her clutches.

His mouth was dry.  “Inform me of whatever you learn.”  He knew he’d be resting uneasily until he knew whether or not she was responsible.

“You bet, kid.” There was something somber in his gaze that suggested they might be having similar thoughts. Blakk hoped they were both wrong, and then wondered if it was worse to have Zhorrid as an enemy, or to have a new unknown foe in addition to her questionably sane presence. “Well … we’ve gotta get goin’ soon. That’s pretty much what I wanted to get to you.”

“Oh …”  Blakk’s gaze fell to study his boots.  “... Right.”  Well, that would be a relief.  He couldn’t count the number of times he’d told Seran to get lost, and here he finally was.

“I’ll pop in on you later -” … he should have known that was too easy … “- but for now I’ve got some things of my own I need to catch up on. Business as usual, but it needs done. I put some numbers in that new comm of yours.”

“I doubt any of them are _useful_ ,” was Blakk’s off-the-cuff snap, but again, it somehow lacked venom.

The Zabrak just snickered, never one to get offended. Honestly, Blakk wondered if the man even had a temper to rouse. Odd, considering his build and appearance, but he was almost infuriatingly lazy and slow paced. “Yeah, well, you never know. I’m in there, so at least you have a reliable source of holo suggestions.”

“Great.  Now I know which of this junk I can scrap first for credits I can actually use to buy some _real_ equipment.”

“Brat.” It should have been an insult, but was nearly cheerful.

He was so _weird_ sometimes.

Blakk huffed in response and crossed his arms, looking off into some corner of the docking bay.  He remained like that for a moment, before his eyes slid gradually back to the Zabrak.  So, he really was leaving, after all.

“Been one hell of a ride,” the musing was seemingly out of nowhere, though he supposed Seran _was_ staring off in the correct direction. But there were _walls_ in the way, so it wasn’t like they could see outside. “Try not t’ get yourself killed, alright?”

Blakk scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “I have better things to do.”  But he sensed Seran was serious, and if nothing else, with as much as the Zabrak had done for him over the past few weeks, Blakk supposed he deserved a serious answer.  “... I’ll … I’ll be careful,” he finished, quietly.

It was amazing to watch some tension visibly ease out of that broad frame. Did Blakk’s words really matter that much to him? That was … quite a thought ….

“Good. I’ll see you around, then?”

 _Gods, I hope not_ was what he _meant_ to say.  But somehow his mouth blurted a quiet, “Yeah,” without his permission.  Seeking to remedy that, he cleared his throat and added, “... _Maybe_.”

There was that damn _knowing_ look, which Seran had no business having, because he didn’t _know anything._ But he just nodded once with a little smile, shifting his weight and waving at someone behind him. “That’s Mako. I’m off.”

Blakk nodded.  “... Right.  Okay.”  Just what _were_ you supposed to say to someone you hadn’t wanted around in the first place, and weren’t supposed to want to come back?  “Um … don’t die, or anything.  … Those are Saare’s sentiments more than mine,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, no. Dying’s a little permanent a thing for me - not ready for end game yet.” Seran laughed, like it was supposed to be funny or something. Somehow, the fact that Seran-vin literally laughed at death … really didn’t come as a surprise. At all.

“ _SERAN!_ ”

“I’m coming!” The big Zabrak barely had to raise his voice for it to carry over the hangar, a broad grin on his face as he headed past. Before Blakk could react, a large hand rose and fell to muss his hair. “Good hunting, Blakk.”

It took a moment for Blakk to react, too shocked was he at the gesture.  When he gathered his wits, he quickly raised his hand to slap away Seran’s with an indignant, “ _Hey!”_ except, by that point, the Zabrak was already moving.  

The expression of annoyance slowly dropped from Blakk’s face as he watched Seran walk away.  

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted Seran to leave after all, but it was too late to call him back. The Zabrak broke into a brief jog, then fell into step with Mako. Blakk couldn’t hear them, but from the way she was moving her hands, she was saying something, and Seran had that little tilt to his head he tended to get when thinking about things. There was a close camaraderie there between them, undeniable in their posture and the way they talked and gestured.

He wasn’t sure how Mako could stand it.

Maybe he’d ask her later. He needed to try the comm out anyway.  Make sure Seran hadn’t given him the piece of junk Blakk was pretty sure it was.

Slowly - because of his damn leg and not for any other ridiculous reason - Blakk turned and strode back into the ship.  The lockbox weighed heavily in his belt pouch, but he would soon fix that.  There was a nice corner somewhere he’d stash it where he could soon forget about it.  A box with nothing in it was nothing to worry about, after all.

* * *

**End Epilogue**


	8. Omake

The second he’d heard the Rattataki was coming in, Seran took off, out of the ship and kicking on his boosters to get over to her position as she was coming down. Mako was on his comm, but he hadn’t mentioned it to Saare-ha. Hopefully this little _visit_ would be a one time deal, and all that was needed to set things straight with her.

He should have done this a long time ago.

Kaliyo exited the transport, leisurely striding down the ramp.  She didn’t spot him until she’d reached the bottom.  She froze briefly - but only _just_ \- before her lips pulled into a small smirk as she continued across the hangar bay.  She made no effort to angle his direction, continuing toward the exit and the secure Sith facilities further beyond, where Saare was docked. Apparently, she assumed he’d make the effort to meet her if he wanted.

Rude, but not unexpected. He wondered if she’d done half the research on him that he’d started on her. She didn’t seem the sort, given there was no clear interest in him or his thoughts. More to his advantage to be underestimated most of the time, though. It was no effort to catch up, even matching her pace, given how much taller he was. “I think it’s about time we had a chat, girl.”

“No time like the present … so they say.”  She didn’t slow down.

“I know you’ve got your own plans, and your own reasons for staying with Agent Blakk, and playing nice with Imperial Intelligence,” he noted mildly, “it just makes sense. You’re not a lost little nerf looking for a herder, and I can respect that. You do your own thing - best way to live. But let me give you some advice, Djannis: don’t cross Blakk.”

“Cross Blakk?”  Here she did stop, turning to face him, one hand on her hip and head tilted with an amused look on her face.  “Now whatever gave you _that_ idea?  Is that what all this is about?”  She waved a hand.

“The fact that someone actually wrote ‘habitual liar’ into your intel file is reason enough, but I could stack a few more.” He noted dryly, not crossing his arms as he might have preferred since it limited his ability to get to his blasters. “I’d like nothin’ better than for you to prove me a paranoid, blaster-happy spacer. Really. You do that. That’s what I’m _hoping_ for, and if that was in your plan, then we don’t have a problem.”

She grinned at him, then.  “‘Habitual liar,’ huh?  Must’ve been someone I stood up one too many times.  Maybe I should be flattered you’ve been checking me out.  But even you should know that intel files can be biased.”

“Hey, just sayin’ - I like the guy, and I don’t want to see anything happen.” He shrugged, smirking. “We got a bit of a rough start, you an’ I, but there’s no hard feelings. I just know you’re the one he has watching his back, and I like to be sure you’re gonna _do_ that.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”  She crossed her arms.  “I’ll let you in on a little secret - I like the agent, too.  I think I have something of a stake in watching his back, so no worries there.  He can be a little tough to deal with sometimes, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He snorted at the understatement of Blakk being _tough to deal with_ and nodded, smirking. “Fair enough. Like I said, just wanted t’ make sure we were on the same page, y’know?”

“I’ve always liked reading along with someone.  Makes the job more fun.”  She dropped her arms, straightening.  “You want to escort me to see him, or do I get to walk there on my own?”

“Not really _escorting_ , but I’m headed that way anyway. Be kinda stupid _not_ to walk together - I mean, we don’t have a problem, right?”

“I don’t have a problem, if you don’t,” she replied smoothly, amusement in her voice, as she began to walk once more, deliberately not reacting to his warning.  “Can’t say I’d complain about the view, either.”

Seran snorted softly, amused. Well, hopefully she’d mind her manners around Blakk - that was his only goal here, anyway. He really didn’t give a damn what she was trying to pull, playing with the Imps, so long as she didn’t get the kid hurt. “He got plenty banged up, but there won’t be a problem for you to just talk with him. I’d bet he’d appreciate the interruption.”

“Oh?  Not playing too nice with the Sith?”

“What? Nah, he’s just _bored_ is all,” he clarified. “Bedrest is a pain, but he was incredibly lucky that he’ll be _able_ to make a full recovery.”

“That bad, huh?”  Her voice became unusually solemn.

“Yeah, _real_ bad.” He nodded, and had to give her credit for taking that seriously. Hopefully his gut feeling was wrong this time. It happened. “Could have lost him, if he wasn’t so stubborn and Saare-ha wasn’t so well trained in healing medicines.”

“I saw the ship,” Kaliyo said, softly.  She was quiet a moment, before asking, “Any idea what caused it?  The crash, I mean.”

“We’re thinkin’ sabotage, honestly,” he admitted, equally softly, frowning. “‘Cause they didn’t have equipment _here_ to pluck him out of the air like that, or scramble him that bad. Which makes me think it happened well before Balmorra air space, if you know what I mean.”

“That would mean … Dromund Kaas, or Korriban.  … You’re thinking the Sith did this?”

“I’m not sure who - technically, it could have been anyone there, with the skill and gall,” he pointed out. “But then there’s who had access to his landing spot, and it was likely premeditated, because that sort of thing takes time when you’re planning to cover your tracks. Blakk didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“Hmm … with the amount of damage the ship took, I don’t think they intended for him to survive.  Whoever it was might come back to finish the job.”

“All the more important that you watch his back, yeah?” Seran arched a brow, looking down at her. “I don’t want anythin’ happening to him, and he’ll be vulnerable for a while.”

“Yeah, I got this.”  She gave him a lazy grin.  “Agent won’t know what to do with me after a while.  He might even be willing to take _you_ back.”

That made him laugh, the sound open and hearty, because he knew all too well what she was getting at. “Yeah, well he could use some more social interaction!”

“That’s a tall order, but I’ll see what I can do.  I’ve known some good stiffs in my day …” she shrugged.  “But they were all dead.  He gives them a good run for their money.”

Seran snorted, amused, and shrugged as well. “He’ll loosen up eventually. I mean, he can’t get wound much tighter, anyway …”

He hoped not, at least. That would be awkward.

“I suppose not.  I dunno, I think I can get him to come around.”

“Power to you; it’s not good to be wound that tight.” Seran shook his head. “Well, he’s young yet. He’ll learn.”

Kaliyo hummed.  “Between you an’ me … I think he just needs a good night out.”  She smirked.

He snorted, amused. “Well, he gets himself back to full strength, I’d be more than happy to do my part.”

Mako and Saare might just kill them both if he so much as suggested it now. Besides, he had a feeling the kid wouldn’t handle alcohol as skillfully as his blaster yet.

“Mmm, me too … we can make it a threesome.”  Kaliyo grinned suggestively.

He arched a brow at her, shaking his head. “Noooo thank you. Even if he wasn’t like a kid brother, I don’t lean that way.”

Kaliyo smirked.  “If you say so.  Never too late to change your mind, though …  If you do, look me up.  Or even if you don’t.”  She gave him a quick wink.

Seran shook his head, smirking wryly. “You’re horrible. I’d say Blakk would be horrified, but honestly that’s a bit too easy.”

She chuckled.  “Yeah, Agent’s horrified at _everything_.  Be fun to give him something _worth_ being horrified at, just to see his face.  I know a couple late-night … establishments … that could do the trick.  Loosen him up, too … it’d be a win-win.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t shoot anybody important, and the rest is between the two of you.” He really hoped there would never be anything even vaguely romantic between them, however. Given Blakk would probably blush horribly at the mere _thought_ , though, they were probably safe.

“If you say so.”  She gave him another appraising look, the type that said that the offer was still open, before turning her attention upon the ship they approached.  

Inwardly, Seran shuddered. Yeah, he liked his flings to be more … stable. Mentally. And at least someone he could trust with himself in that vulnerable a position.

Plus, Blakk? No. _Hell_ no. He’d never see him that way - never wanted to _try_.

Ever.

But Seran would keep an eye out for him. That promise he’d made to them both.

* * *

 

_**End Omake** _


End file.
